


Doctor Who: The Best Shopping Centre in the Universe

by Mr_Flibble



Category: Doctor Who Fanon
Genre: Gen, The Doctor thinks some of the words are naughty!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-16 02:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18681997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Flibble/pseuds/Mr_Flibble
Summary: An original story, not based on any broadcast TV episodes, featuring the 11th Doctor and Amy Pond, as the Tardis takes them on an unexpected journey...





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

 

Amy stands just outside the battered blue Police Box, looking around with growing annoyance. Slender, almost to the point of emaciation, Amelia Pond is an extremely pretty young woman, with dark brown eyes and rich red hair – providing a stark contrast to her alabaster skin.

Anyone unfamiliar with ‘time-honoured’ clichés might mistake her for a lost waif – until they registered her clothing, and noticed the red tinge slowly suffusing her cheeks with colour. Amy’s porcelain features hide a fiery temperament, (what is it they say about redheads?) which is beginning to come to the fore. Since she is wearing a ripped black T-shirt over bright red Tartan bondage trousers, and Day-Glo green Doc Martens, the anger suits her.

Shaking her head in disappointment, Amy takes her hands from her hips, and stops tapping her heel against the floor in annoyance. Instead she mutters “well done, Doctor!’ under her breath, and then yells, ‘Doctor!’ as she barges her way back into the Police Box. (The rickety door looks like it may come off its hinges under the force of her blow.) ‘This is most definitely not London, 1977!”

The door slams behind her, blocking the impossible view inside from any stray passersby.

 

In stark contrast to its somewhat dilapidated external appearance, the Doctor’s miraculous conveyance through time and space – the Tardis – is currently presenting its interior in bronze and copper shades of ‘Space-Age Gothic’. A vaulted cathedral space of indeterminate size, the arching buttresses seem to combine walls and ceiling, but the eyes are immediately drawn to the large raised central platform.

Victorian style brass railings lead one up a flight of open-plan mesh steps, which provide  a clear view of the ’Steampunk’ architecture beneath. They continue on to encircle the next level. A large console squats at the center, resembling a biomechanical mushroom more than anything else, but the eye continues upwards. A huge column of solidified power appears to soar from the centre of the console, perhaps straining to leap into eternity.

The Time Lord is playing the controls of this bizarre mechanism, like a dandified ‘scarecrow’ version of Captain Nemo at his pipe-organ. He seems oblivious to Amy’s return. To her satisfaction, the Doctor actually jumps as Amy calls out his name again, before turning to smile at her as she races up the steps towards him. “Ah… Pond! Don’t worry, I’ll be along shortly! Just had to check something first!”

“Aren’t you listening to me, Doctor? You’ve landed us in the wrong place, and totally the wrong time!”

“Are you sure?’ he asks, looking slightly perplexed. ‘I mean, you’ve never actually been to 1977 before, so how would you know what it looks like?”

“Well, there’s an easy way to find out, isn’t there?’ Amy replies aggressively, grabbing his wrist and dragging him back down the steps with her, until they stand before the Tardis’ doors. Then she just steps back away and folds her arms across her chest, flicking her head to indicate that he should take a look for himself. After giving her a slightly dubious perusal, the Time Lord opens a door just enough to stick his head out. His body freezes for a couple of beats before he withdraws his head, closing the door gently.

The Doctor pauses thoughtfully, gripping his collar and stretching his neck; rotating his head as if trying to draw a circle in the air with his chin. “Ah…’ he ruminates vaguely, trying not to glance guiltily in Amy’s direction (and failing miserably.) ‘Yes, I see what you mean, Pond.’ Then he adds, somewhat defensively, ‘I don’t know why you are so bothered about it! All I have to do is try again!” So saying, he gives her his best ‘cheeky chappy’ grin, full of schoolboy mischief, and makes to return to the console.

“Hang about, Doctor!’ Amy exclaims hotly, holding him back with a hand on his arm. ‘Why are we in the wrong place anyway? I thought you could fly this thing! In fact, I believe you said something about being able to get me back ‘before the kettle boiled’, or something like that!”

“And I will, Pond, I will!’ the Doctor reassures her – but he can see that she is not about to let this go. Almost exasperated, he flings his arms up to encompass the space around them. ‘Time machine!’ he shouts loudly, ‘Remember?”

“But we’re in the wrong time!” Amy persists stubbornly.

The Doctor just shakes his head, then closes his eyes and rubs imaginary creases from his youthfully smooth forehead. “Pond, Pond, Pond… Amelia Pond…’ he starts, then trails off as he realises that he isn’t sure what he had intended to say. ‘Look, let me just try the time vector coordinates again – maybe I transposed a digit or two – you never know. There really isn’t any need to get so worked up, honestly! The stories I could tell you…!” Without explaining that mysterious comment any further, he once more heads for the central console.

Amy follows him grumpily, still not quite willing to let the Time Lord off the hook. (Anyway, she is enjoying the effect her sulk is having on him!) As she approaches the centerpiece of the control room, however, she can’t help but marvel anew at its intricate complexities. In places the surface almost seems to flow around incongruous mechanical artifacts, as if they have begun to sink into it. Elsewhere, some areas resemble sections of ancient ‘ironclads’, held together by prominent bolts and rivets. Ultra-High-Tec monitor screens hang overhead, and also crouch incongruously amongst antique looking pumps, levers, and pistons on the console.

So far, Amy hasn’t managed to find the clockwork control system, but she is convinced that there must be one!

The Doctor is muttering away to himself as he checks various settings, but just shrugs when Amy glares at him, as if he can see no problems. Then he hunches over with a double-handed thumbs-up and a mad grin, before launching into a whirling dervish of lever pumping and button pressing. (Half of which, Amy is pretty sure, he is just throwing in for effect.) Lights brighten in the massive central column, and it really sounds as if the Tardis is about to do something… Until the familiar launch noises cough and wheeze into silence. There is a loud, no compromise ‘Thunk!’ as the time rotor settles back into dormancy.

“Oh!” remarks the Doctor in surprise, a disappointed forelock drooping over one eye.

Tapping rather redundantly at a spare bit of tech hanging over his head, the Doctor glances casually towards Amy, offering a slightly queasy looking smile. She replies by tilting her head, to emphasise an interrogatively raised eyebrow, and offers her frostiest glare. “Well,’ the Doctor declaims, after clearing his throat, ‘it looks very much as if the Tardis wants us to be here. She does have a mind of her own, you know!”

“You what? You mean you don’t control your own ship?” Amy sounds slightly gob-smacked.

“The Tardis isn’t just a ship!’ the Doctor retorts angrily, looking as if he wants to hug the console to protect it from the nasty lady. ‘She’s also my home, and my friend! I don’t ‘control’ her. We have a… a mutual understanding, I suppose you could say.’ He leans against the console almost resignedly, glumly adding, ‘Unfortunately, she has a nose for trouble. I should imagine that there is something out there…’ He gives a hair-flick in the direction of the door. ‘That she wants me to investigate!”

Suddenly alarmed, Amy flings out her hands in violent negation. “Oh no, Doctor! I’m not having that! You can either take me to the Sex Pistols gig – as promised – or you can take me home so we can have that cup of tea!” Without giving him a chance to answer, she stomps down the steps to the floor level, and begins to prowl moodily.

The Doctor rushes to the rail and shouts down at her. “It’s really not that much to ask, when you think about it, Pond. You have no idea how lucky you are to be travelling with me as I am now! For most of my lifetimes… Well, I didn’t have the faintest idea where the Tardis would take me!”

Amy freezes mid-step, and slowly swivels around to look up at him. “Most of your lifetimes?”

“Ah…’ the Doctor sighs, perhaps realising that he has said more than he had intended to, ‘I keep forgetting… you’ve only ever known me as me, haven’t you…”

“Well, who else would you be?’ Amy asks, beginning to feel just a little uncomfortable. ‘Ivor the Engine?”

“Wait there!’ The Doctor instructs from the railing.

‘Don’t go away!’ He yells, as he dashes down the steps.

Arriving in front of the (now slightly nervous) young woman, the Doctor halts his frenetic progress, fingering his bow tie casually. ‘Perhaps there are a few things that I need to explain to you.” He offers, sounding as if he may have forgotten to mention something that might possibly be slightly…

Important.

Amy takes a step back.

With a faint hurt registering in his eyes, the Doctor continues gamely. “Look, I’ve told you that I’m a Time Lord, haven’t I?’ Amy nods, wide-eyed and unusually quiet. He sighs again, running a hand morosely through his rebellious hair. ‘Well, the thing that I haven’t really explained to you about Time Lords before, is that we, er… Change…”

“Bollocks!’ Amy interjects violently, in a welcome (to her, at least!) release of tension. ‘You haven’t changed since I was a little girl! You’re even wearing the same clothes!”

“I most certainly am not!’ The Doctor protests indignantly, ‘These socks were fresh on next Tuesday! Anyway, that isn’t what I meant… I’m not really sure how to explain…’ Lowering his head to scratch at the back of his neck, he squints towards his confused friend from beneath a protective fringe. ‘I suppose I should have told you about this before – I always meant to, just in case – but I never seem to find the right time!”

He winces slightly as Pond gives him a hugely exaggerated roll of her eyes, before folding her arms across her chest decisively – her body language clearly shouting, ‘I’m waiting to be impressed!’

‘Well, what I mean to say, you see, is…’ The Doctor is beginning to wish that he hadn’t raised the subject in the first place, but forces himself to continue. ‘Look, it’s like this… I’m not the first me!

‘Well, of course, I’m the first me – I’m the only me, obviously – but there have been other me’s before, er… Me…

‘Let me put it another way! I’m a Time Lord, right? Well, we Time Lords have the ability to survive our own deaths, in a way. It’s a form of genetically modified morphogenesis, which we call ‘Regeneration’. Each time I have to regenerate, it is like I become a totally different person, and…”

“Wait!’ Amy interrupts abruptly. ‘Let me get this straight. Are you saying that you don’t die? That you get… reincarnated or something?”

A huge grin splits the Doctor’s face as he raises a dramatic finger in the air, only to be chased away by a reluctant frown when he replies, “Yes! Well… no… not exactly. Erm, not even slightly, actually.’ He looks at his raised finger, as if he can’t remember how it got there. ‘Um. Think of it as a survival mechanism. When I say that I change, I mean that I change everything!  It isn’t like the old version of me simply inhabits a new body, my personality changes as well! Although I can remember who I used to be and what that life was like – most of the time, anyway – well, I’m not that  person anymore. Do you understand?”

“Not in the slightest,’ Amy replies coldly, as an awful suspicion begins to creep upon her. “Why are you telling me this now, Doctor? You’re not planning to… er… slip into something more comfortable… any time soon, are you?”

Blank incomprehension momentarily transfixes the Doctor’s habitually animated features, but is rapidly replaced by a huge smile of relief. “Oh, Pond, I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t mean to give you that impression at all! No, it’s just something that I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. You complaining about the Tardis not arriving exactly where you expected, well, it just reminded me of all those previous lives… When I never knew where the old thing would take me! Or even when! The companions that… chose to travel with me in those days, they never even knew if they would see their own time and place in the universe ever again – let alone be able to phone up their Mum’s to ask what was for dinner!”

As she has only vague recollections of her own mother, Amy decides to ignore this peculiar comment, and instead dives in with, “So how many lives have you had – and when did you actually learn how to steer the Tardis?”

“Ah!’ beams the Doctor, evidently believing himself to be on safer ground. ‘I’m glad you asked me that! Er… those. Um… not entirely sure, and, ah… not entirely sure. I think it might have been when I was the little chap with the straw boaters, and the question-mark umbrella… Always rolling my R-r’s”

Amy blinks, not entirely sure that she has heard him correctly. “Always rolling your what?”

“R-r’s, Pond, R-r’s. You know… A-r-r-ound the R-r-r-ugged R-r-r-ock, the R-r-r-agged R-r-r-ascal R-r-r-an!

‘Oww! What did you do that for?” He shoots Pond an offended glare, rubbing at the shoulder she has just punched.

Amy’s so recently aroused righteous indignation deflates slightly, as the Doctor’s expression reveals his honest confusion. Almost apologetically, she explains. “That was the worst Scottish accent I’ve ever heard!

‘I thought you were taking the Mick!”

“Well, I wasn’t. I was just trying to talk like I used to! I was Scottish back then… I’m just… not now…”

This is all getting a little too much for Amy. She raises one hand up to massage her forehead, whilst thrusting the other, palm out, to ward off the Doctor’s prattle. “Stop!’ she demands, ‘Just… Stop…’ Taking a deep breath, she advances on him aggressively, until she is wagging a finger practically in his face. “Are you trying to tell me that – as if changing personality isn’t enough – your nationality and accent changes as well? How is that supposed to make any sense? One minute you’re Scottish, and the next you’re a posh public-school boy who doesn’t know which team to row for? Surely you can’t alter that much!”

“Actually, it’s a little bit more complicated than that, Pond,’ the Doctor replies, gently guiding her finger away from his face. (So that it doesn’t go off accidentally?) ‘Firstly, it doesn’t just happen at the drop of a hat – at least – not often. If I am suffering from a lethal dose of Metabelis radiation, for example… Or slowly dying from Spectrox poisoning… Or if I stumble in the Tardis and bang my head on the console; well, under those kind of life threatening conditions, regeneration is automatically triggered. I can’t just try on different bodies to see which one I  like – I have absolutely no control over who I am going to turn into! Regeneration is a bit like a box of chocolates in that respect – you never know what you are going to get.”

“That sounds like Forrest Gump!” Amy erupts, incredulously.

“No, it’s the truth, honest!’ The Doctor defends himself, looking rather surprised at Pond’s language. (He isn’t entirely sure what she has just said, but he has a niggling suspicion that it may have been a bit ruder than even the ‘B-Word’!) ‘But the new me is a completely new me, so I have to get to know myself again, every time it happens! That’s actually why it took me so long to get back to you, when I had promised to return in five minutes. I was breaking in the new me and, I’m sorry, but I just lost track of the time.”

Amy stores this apology away for later consideration. (The apple had a face carved in it. It was still fresh…) “But doesn’t it feel weird at all? I mean, one you speaks a certain way, then the next you has a Scots accent? Doesn’t it sound strange to… um… you?”

“It could have been worse…’ he mutters into his shoulder, checking to see if the feeling has returned to the numbed muscles. ‘I could have been Welsh…”

A sudden premonition inspires the Doctor to duck down onto his haunches, and a brisk waft of air ruffles his coiffure. Amy, who is expecting to meet the resistance of something slightly more substantial than empty air, yelps as the momentum of her abortive slap topples her into a stand beside her. As she turns to steady the wobbling column, a dislodged pot plant sails past her head, and she hears an anguished cry of “Moooortiimuuuur!” from ground level.

What happens next seems, to Amy, to happen in slow-motion: almost like watching the only decent bits from the ‘Matrix’ movies. She snaps her head down in time to see the Doctor launch himself across the floor – horizontally – from his crouched position. With a hauntingly balletic grace, he twists in (low level) mid-air, so that he is facing upright…

Just in time to cradle the falling pot as it thumps into his chest! Amy gawps in astonishment as he lands heavily on his back, sliding helplessly across the floor until his head meets an obstruction. “Ow!’ He sighs quietly, not bothering to move from that position. ‘In fact, now that I think about it… Double Ow!”

“What on Earth was all that about?’ Amy asks in mild disbelief. ‘And don’t bother telling me that we’re not on Earth – I already had that figured out – in case you hadn’t noticed!”

“You nearly hurt Mortimer!’ The Doctor declares accusingly, levering himself into a sitting position with one arm – the other still cradling the pot-plant protectively. ‘You really have to try to be more careful, Pond – we’re not the only occupants of the Tardis, you know!”

Amy decides to ignore this for the moment.

To give herself time to think, she makes sure that the stand she had knocked into is now stable. Behind her, the Doctor raises himself to his feet, whispering comfortingly to his plant. Amy shakes her head, submitting to the inevitable, and turns to face him again.

“Wait a minute, Doctor. Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You called your pot-plant Mortimer?”

“Of course! That’s her name!”

“Her name? How do you know?”

“She told me!”

Amy blinks, pauses, then starts again. “Look, Doctor… Okay, I’ve heard of people talking to their plants… It’s supposed to be quite therapeutic, actually… But nobody has ever said anything about their plants talking back! At least, not that I’ve heard. And while we’re on the subject – why would a plant be female – and why would it call itself Mortimer?”

“I’ll have you know, Pond, that in her native Aspidistrian, Mortimer is a very pretty and feminine name!” He is standing with his arms wrapped around the pot that Mortimer lives in, twisting away from Amy defensively, as if he expects her to attack again at any moment.

“Are you sure you are feeling quite yourself, Doctor?’ Amy has no idea if Time Lords actually have mental breakdowns – but they certainly seem like strong candidates for multiple personality disorders, if what the Doctor has just told her is true! A thought resurfaces. ‘And what do you mean, we’re not the only occupants of the Tardis?”

Assuming an air of wounded dignity, the Doctor casts about for somewhere safe to put his plant, settling for a recessed alcove illuminated by a soft blue glow. Once he is sure that Mortimer is settled comfortably, he pats her pot affectionately, before deigning to return his attention to Amy.

“My Aspidistrian friend back there, for example.’ He jabs a thumb over his shoulder, as he walks back towards his human friend. ‘She has travelled in the Tardis ever since I was an angst-ridden wet blanket in cricket togs – although not always… Anyway, sometimes  I invite guests to travel with me, and sometimes the Tardis invites her own guests’ (He glares up towards the console) ‘without telling me! You can’t just assume that anything in here is what it looks like!”

Amy makes a mental note to examine everything in the Tardis more carefully in future! (What if she tried to sit in a chair… and it ran away! And no way was she using the time machine’s toilet again! What if it decided to eat her?) She almost misses the Doctor’s next words.

‘And yes! I am most definitely me! I thought we’d already cleared that one up!”

Suddenly feeling mentally exhausted by the Doctor’s bizarre revelations, Amy deflates and sighs in defeat. “So, what are we gonna do now?”

“What are we gonna do now?”

“Yes! What are we gonna do now?”

He fiddles with his fingers uncertainly, casting a longing look towards the Tardis’ exit, and moves his jaw about as if trying to physically  sculpt his next words. “Well, Pond,’ he begins, cautiously, ‘that looks like some kind of futuristic, space-alien type shopping centre, out there…’ He pauses, checking for her reaction. When she nods her agreement, the Doctor continues enthusiastically. ‘Well… you’re a girl!’ (So nice of you to notice! she seethes, silently.) ‘And girl’s like shopping! So I thought that we could… Go shopping?”

He takes a large step back, just in case she decides to hit him again.

Amy just stands there nodding. She is trying to devise a suitable punishment for the Doctor’s apparent sexism – but the sad fact is, he’s just so innocent that he doesn’t realise what he’s doing. She opts to hit him where it hurts, instead.

“Okay then, give it to me!” She, demands, holding out a hand.

“Um… Give what to you?” He asks, totally befuddled.

“The psychic credit card!”

“But…’ The Doctor scratches a frown of confusion for a moment, then spreads his hands wide. ‘There’s no such thing as a psychic credit card!”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that, Pond!

‘Although I do have a variety of currencies that I’ve picked up along the way – would that help?”

Amy smiles alluringly at the bewildered Time Lord, then slinks close enough to cuddle his arm seductively. “So, are you going to be my Sugar Daddy then?” She purrs, batting her eyelashes at him saucily.

“Er… Don’t think I want to… Actually…”

“Why not?’ (Cheeky wink.) ‘You might enjoy it!”

“It sounds… (Nervous fiddling with bow tie.)

‘Naughty…

‘What is a sugar daddy, anyway?” A slight hint of annoyance is beginning to creep into the Doctor’s embarrassed response.

“Oh, you’re  perfect for it, Doctor!’ Amy enthuses, hugging his arm even tighter. ‘A sugar daddy is an older man who spends all his money on a pretty young woman, just so she will be his companion!” Her eyes are twinkling with genuine amusement, as she waits to see how that one goes down!

A huge smile of relief splits the Doctor’s face, and he gently removes himself from her grip. “Oh! That’s alright then! I can do that!’ he announces brightly, before dashing off to examine various nooks and crannies. ‘Wait there, Pond! I’ll be right back!”

Amy has to stifle a laugh as the Doctor transforms, once more, into the ‘fishfingers and custard’ lunatic that she fell in love with as a child. He zooms around the control room, opening obscure hatches and hidden recesses. A running litany of “Aha!’s, and ‘Mmm… maybe not!’s, and even an ‘Ooh, I’m terribly sorry! Don’t mind me!’ accompany his frenetic progress around the perimeter of the space.

Finally, he shouts back to his astonished companion. ‘Don’t worry, Pond! I’ve got it all sorted! Back in a jiffy!” Then he disappears through a door that Amy hasn’t noticed before. Somewhat flabbergasted by the result of her teasing, Amy finds herself a little unsure what to do. She catches herself glancing over to the alcove containing Mortimer.

As casually as she can, Amy sidles over in that direction, pretending that she is actually looking for something else.

When she is bathed in the alcove’s blue glow herself, she double-checks that the Time Lord is well out of the picture, then leans in to whisper. “I’m really sorry, Mortimer! I didn’t mean to scare you – it was a total accident – honest!”

Mortimer declines to respond…

“Yeah, right!’ Amy snorts, as she folds her hands behind her back and saunters nonchalantly away. ‘Nice one, Amelia Pond! You’ll be as barking as the Doctor soon if you don’t watch yourself, my girl… Next thing you know, you’ll be talking to yourself!” She finds herself scrutinising various odd looking bits and bobs warily, making sure to keep her hands safely behind her back, until the Doctor returns.

“He we go, Pond!’ He announces triumphantly, as he explodes back into the control room. ‘Knew I had some Dosh… Some Spondoolicks… Some Grotzit’s… Etceteraaa! Etceteraaa! Etceteraaa!” He is waving a small wooden box as he dances around Amy with abandon. With a flourish, he opens the lid and, still doing the Doctor Mash, begins to distribute handfuls of weird objects amongst his pockets.

“Oy! Don’t I get any, Doctor?” Amy complains, loudly.

He stops moving abruptly, and examines her bondage trousers with a critical eye. “Got just the things for you, Pond.’ He announces, as he pops open a compartment inside his box, handing her the contents. ‘Paper money of many denominations… well it’s not paper really, more like plastic. Probably useless here, but some might be antiques or collector’s items, you never know!”

Amy accepts the wodge of notes unenthusiastically, then brightens up immediately at the Doctor’s next offering. “Ooh!’ She almost squeals, ‘Shiny things! Amy’s like shiny things!”

“Yes, precisely! You can never go wrong with jewels and gemstones, Pond!’ The Doctor agrees smugly. “Everybody likes precious stones, no matter what species they are, or what use they put them to! You’re onto a winner there, you can trust me on that!”

He seems inordinately pleased with himself as he places the nearly empty box on the raised console platform. Meanwhile, Amy is trying to work out which pockets to put what goodies in, trying not to lose her patience with all the false zippers. She is still trying to stuff away a few spare jewels when the Doctor yells cheerfully.

“Come on then, Pond! Let’s go shopping!”


	2. Chapter 2

As he exited the Tardis, The Doctor threw his arms wide, sucked in a huge breath, and announced brightly. “Ah, yes! Now this looks familiar!”

Amy, just a step behind, peered at him askance, then asked curiously, “It does?”

“Well… Of course it does!’ The Time Lord responded exasperatedly, giving Pond ‘the look’. (The one that asked. ‘Who is this stupid person, and where is my Amelia?’) ‘I only saw it a couple of minutes ago!”

“Oh…’ Amy replied rather lamely, before taking offense at his attitude. She jabbed a finger into his chest. ‘I thought you meant that you’d been here before, that’s all.”

“Ah!’ He acknowledged, rather unhelpfully. Amy was pleased to note that the Doctor suddenly looked rather concerned, tapping his fingers against his chest and glancing around uncertainly. After a brief perusal, however, he exclaimed in relief. ‘No! Not at all, Pond, not at all! Not even slightly! Never been here in my life! …Um, lives.’ He turned back to her curiously and asked. ‘What do you make of this place?”

Amy looked again at the scenery spread out around them. It really was quite interesting, (okay, stunningly impressive!) now that she was over the disappointment of not being where she had expected to be. It was some kind of vehicle park apparently – space vehicles, by the look of them. However, instead of being in some dreary underground concrete car park, they were standing outdoors in brilliant orange sunlight. Everywhere Amy looked, immaculately polished transports – of every imaginable design and colour – scintillated off into the distance. About eight or nine vehicle bays from where the Tardis had materialised was… Well, what could only be, as the Doctor had suggested, a futuristic space-alien type shopping centre. It was massive! Too big to take in at such close range, really. Above the ground-level entryways, the gleaming structure rose up, and up, and…

“Pond?” enquired the Doctor, breaking her chain of amazement.

“Give me a minute, Doctor.’ Amy replied brusquely, feeling slightly embarrassed. She had been about to ask why there were so many signs over the entrances saying ‘Welcome to The Best Shopping Centre in the Universe!’ Just in time, Amy realized that anyone not fortunate enough to have arrived by Tardis… Well, they would see a multitude of signs in different languages, all touting the same message! ‘I guess we’re lucky that the Tardis got us so close to the entrance, really.” Amy murmured, almost under her breath, as she took a look behind the Doctor’s time machine, for her first glimpse of...

“Lucky!’ huffed the Doctor dismissively, ‘I’m sure that luck had nothing to do with it! Don’t tell her I said this, but…

‘Oh my! I see what you mean!”

They both stood silently for a few moments, soaking in the vista. The vehicle park stretched off into the distance beneath a tangerine sky. The further away the vehicles got, the larger they must have been, which made sense really, the Doctor conceded to himself. It gave the impression of a multicoloured ocean, with diamond-bright wave-crests spangling in the sunshine. Droves of passengers (or maybe sightseers) were heading towards the Centre on hover-platforms – evidently the local version of ‘park and ride’! He frowned as he spotted what looked suspiciously like a Judoon Judiciary Cruiser, landing far off in the distance…

“Come along, Pond!’ He suddenly exclaimed, tapping her on the shoulder, ‘Let’s go and see what The Best Shopping Centre in the Universe has to offer! I don’t know about you, but all this material wealth is burning holes in my pockets!” Without waiting to see if she was following, he began striding confidently towards the entryways.

Amy tore her gaze away from the wonders that confronted her, and made her way after him more sedately. As she gawped around numbly, gradually assimilating what she was seeing; a jazzy looking little runabout a few bays over rose vertically into the air, then sped silently off into the distance. (She had been wondering how they had managed to pack all these transports so closely!) A loud exclamation from the Doctor suddenly grabbed her attention.

“Ooh look! I’ve always wanted one of these!”

Amy ambled over to where he was exaggeratedly stalking around a – relatively – small spacecraft. It was snappy little number that was just hovering there smugly, and looking pretty pleased with itself. If pressed, Amy would have described it as ‘the Suzuki Hayabusa of short-range space transports’. The streamlined curves and gleaming paintwork were quite familiar, somehow. It reminded Amy of suicidally fast superbikes, and cars that cost more than the gross national income of some small countries. Even stationary, it was going so fast you could get a nosebleed.

“What is it?” She asked, not particularly interested. (Boys and their toys! Amy couldn’t help thinking, but she was smiling inside.)

“I have absolutely no idea!’ The Doctor gritted back, through a grin that threatened serious jaw-ache in the near future. He was dancing around the hovering vehicle manically, trying to peer through its mirrored viewports, and twiddling his fingers like a concert pianist warming up. He looked like he wanted to touch the thing, but was worried about leaving sweaty prints on its pristine surface. ‘But whatever it is, I’m sure that I’ve wanted one all of my lives!’

He glanced back at his companion encouragingly, but the grin slipped from the Doctor’s face when he noted her total lack of enthusiasm. “Yes. Well…’ He admitted grudgingly as he stood away from the spaceship, needlessly adjusting his lapels. ‘Got a little carried away there. Perhaps. Maybe.’ Then he stopped brushing imaginary fluff from his jacket, and looked at her imploringly. “Come on, Pond. Don’t tell me that you never played with toy spaceships when you were a little girl!”

Amy considered this. Was the Doctor saying that he was a little girl, once upon a lifetime?

Not wanting to lose the upper hand in this situation, Amy decided to let that one pass. “Come along, Doctor!’ She demanded imperiously, ‘If we have to explore this place, then I intend to see to it that you buy me lots and lots of shiny things, and anything else that takes my fancy!”

“Ah,’ said the Doctor, as he fell in alongside her, ‘I was kind of hoping that you’d forgotten about that bit!”

“Not just a pretty face, me!’ Amy boasted, flinging her hair back as if she was advertising some kind of beauty product. While they continued walking, she couldn’t resist expanding on the theme. ‘Got a pretty hot bod, too – in case you hadn’t noticed!” She smirked, peering sideways at him from the corner of her eye.

Unsurprisingly, the Time Lord totally ignored this comment. “I am sorry that we need to do this, Pond, but I’m sure the Tardis must have her reasons. I don’t actually have any idea what we might be getting into here…

‘Perhaps it would be better if you stayed in the Tardis… Just until I have a better idea of what I’m dealing with?” Concern etched his features, adding at least five years, in Amy’s opinion.

“Not on your Nelly, pal!’ She refused angrily. ‘I’m all dressed up, and this is the only party in town. If you think that I… If you think that you can…

‘Well, you can just think again, that’s all. I’m coming!

‘Besides, I don’t think Mortimer likes me…”

Wisely deciding not to pursue the matter, the Doctor simply nodded, indicating where he wanted to go with a tilt of his head. Although there were several entrances of differing sizes, he began guiding Pond towards one that appeared designed for persons of a roughly Earth Human size. “There are surprisingly fewer visitors out here than one might expect, from all the vehicles present.” He commented musingly, attempting to change the subject.

“I expect everyone’s inside, if this place is as good as it thinks it is!’ Amy speculated blithely, but as they got nearer to their chosen entrance she noticed something interesting. Now that there weren’t so many ‘space-cars’ in the way, she could see small seating areas between the various entrances.  ‘And look over there… Quite a few… people there!” She had almost said aliens, but having seen nobody else remotely human yet, Amy decided that she was as much an alien here as anyone else. She couldn’t help noticing that that some couples – and triples! – weren’t just enjoying relaxing in the sunlight. In fact, they seemed to be… well, ‘romantically engaged’. A pair of amorphous globules caught her eye immediately. They appeared to be besotted, if appearances were anything to go by! Tenderly clasping pseudopods, they had eyes only for each other. (This was quite impressive, Amy thought, being unable to count just how many eyes they actually had, before the Doctor tugged her away.)

“This looks more like a love-in than a shopping centre, Doctor!” She commented wryly, as they passed into the interior. (The mirrored glass doors had just phased out as they approached them!) Amy was not at all surprised to find herself in a corridor, but this was nothing like the dingy tunnels back home. Every surface gleamed, and cute little – well, she supposed they were ‘cleaner-bots’, or something – zipped about frantically. She was a little disappointed to find out that, in this astonishing place, people still preferred to drop rubbish on the floor – even when they were standing right next to a disposal unit…

There were also benches and other seating spaced along the walls of the wide walkway, and many of them were occupied. Not just by young lovers either… There were harassed parent’s trying to settle fractious kidlings, exhausted shoppers who had – quite literally – dropped; and others who appeared to have only just arrived, assiduously studying odd devices and planning their impending assault.

There was just so much to see! Amy’s head was swiveling around as if she more properly belonged on a car dashboard. As they turned a corner, she was only vaguely aware of the Doctor saying “Let’s try to be discreet, shall we, Pond? We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves!”

Unfortunately (for him,) this admonition had been delivered just a little too late… Amy had spotted another couple of… Persons of non-human origin, just a little further along. These two weren’t being quite as discreet as those they had passed previously! A large, furry being was practically engulfing his (?) companion of choice, which was only visible due to a limb gripping onto the shaggy creatures back. There was nothing else for it! In all honesty, Amy simply had no choice in the matter! As she and the Doctor passed the oblivious couple, she yelled across the intervening space. “Oy, you two! Get a room!”

The Doctor looked absolutely mortified!

He grabbed Amy quickly and, displaying a strength that she had never previously suspected, picked her up bodily and ran further down the corridor. When he judged that they were far enough away from Amy’s innocent victims, who (thankfully) hadn’t paid any attention, he set her down on her feet again. Then, without another word, he continued walking as if nothing had happened! Amy skipped nimbly alongside him, trying to look very serious. (All she really wanted to do was crack up laughing! He looked so put out by her little bit of fun. She was almost willing to forgive him his Superman act!)

After a few more paces, the Doctor glanced curiously at her and asked, “What did you say that for?”

“What? Get a room?’ Amy replied, deftly side-stepping a small, crab-like creature which was scuttling towards her. (It was talking into a shiny device that had replaced one claw, and paying no attention to where it was going.) ‘Surely you must have heard that one, Doctor! Haven’t you ever been cat-called before?’

As Amy continued, she jumped in front of him and walked backwards, so that she could tease him to his face. ‘Oh! I nearly forgot! You’re a Time Lord! I suppose Time Lords don’t do snogging, do they?”

“Now then, Pond.’ The Doctor tried, in a ‘sensible, but long-suffering’ tone, (that really didn’t match his youthful features,) ‘We’re nearly there now. You don’t want to walk into this gravity lift backwards, do you?” There wasn’t really much chance of that happening, Amy considered, as he had a light grip on each of her arms, and was guiding her progress carefully. (Actually, she revised in her head, he was steering her rather nervously, as if she was a baby wearing an unexploded nappy!)

Checking that she wasn’t going to collide with anyone, Amy skipped nimbly from his feeble grasp, and resumed walking alongside him. “Gravity lift? What’s a gravity lift? “

“Whatever it can!’ he quipped cheekily, and nodded towards the empty opening that they were approaching. While Amy watched in nervous amazement, a large octopus-type thing slithered into the empty shaft, and ‘wooshed’ upwards instantly!

“No way am I doing that!” Amy bleated in alarm, but the Doctor reassured her that it was totally safe.

Unless she would prefer to try: the ‘rail-gun accelerator’, the ‘short-range transmat’, the ‘invisible escalator’, or – as a last resort – the emergency stairwell…


	3. Chapter 3

Amy whooped with exhilaration as she stepped into apparent nothingness, only to be rapidly ‘whooshed’ upwards alongside the Doctor. Her legs were just a little bit wobbly when they both reached the top! “I bet you don’t though,’ she declared, as they stepped out of the empty lift shaft, trying to disguise her enthusiasm by revisiting her original topic. (She was determined to get some kind of reaction out of him!)  ‘Have snogging sessions, I mean.’ (Inspiration struck!) ‘Wait a minute! Are there Time Lord Kiss-a-Grams?” The Doctor was saved from answering immediately: Amy fell silent in amazement when they passed through the large open entryway, into the Arcade itself. It was the most astonishing arcade, or possibly atrium, that she had ever seen!

Hordes of people of all shapes and sizes thronged the space, but it didn’t appear to be even slightly crowded – it was that big! Although she didn’t spend too long examining any individual shops at first, Amy did note the multiple levels rising up into the ether. These levels were connected by a bewildering array of transport systems, including chutes and waterfalls that she initially assumed were decorative features. On closer examination, however, a variety of aquatic life-forms became evident, but Amy quickly found herself distracted by other sights. Avian beings were quite simply flying between the various levels, but politely avoiding other shoppers when they landed anywhere.  Those poor unfortunates limited to foot travel were rising and descending in glass lifts, on hover platforms, or – or they were simply stepping into little booths… and disappearing!

There was a glorious array of plant life all over the place as well. However, Amy decided that she would treat the various luxuriant growths and shrubberies as fellow customers – until she found out otherwise! Blending in with the ambient murmur of multitudes of conversations; a distinctly odd, yet not unpleasant background beat raised the noise level slightly. After a moment’s consideration, Amy identified the bland and inoffensive sound as ‘Alien Musak’, and promptly forgot about it.

Pride of place, at the center of this huge atrium, went to a large water feature. Resembling a cross between a fountain and a massive tree, it was surrounded by a large pool of water. Amy was amused to notice the ubiquitous cleaner-bots zooming around everywhere, skillfully avoiding the oblivious shoppers. No-one even seemed to notice them, until she saw one poor ‘bot frantically trying to avoid the attentions of a small… tree? It must be a child, Amy concluded, as it scurried gleefully after its victim on multiple root-like appendages. It was emitting a rustling, chortling, litany of giggles, and appeared to be having the time of its life! Until, that is, some kind up vine-like limb plucked it into the air, depositing it firmly back into the pool!

Amy had to fight back her own incipient giggles, as the little sapling waded dejectedly towards a group of children already playing there. It looked so cute!

“Well, well, well!’ Declared the Doctor as he tried to take in everything at once. ‘This is rather impressive, isn’t it?” Amy was unable to disagree. The whole place was totally Wow!  She was about to say so, when the Doctor carried on smugly. ‘As it happens, Pond, I’ve been told that I’m a very good snogger!”

Amy couldn’t believe her ears!

She swung about to find him standing side on to her, affecting an air of nonchalance as he continued to scan the arcade. “Oh yeah? Who told you that then?” She demanded, wondering if she was actually annoyed, or just a teensy bit jealous.

He just peered at her sidelong from the corner of the eye nearest to her, then, in a cod Sean Connery ‘Bond’ voice said. “A gentleman… doesn’t… tell… tales!”

Amy’s Gast was totally Flabbered! There was no way that he was going to get one up on her! She grabbed his arm so that he couldn’t run away, then sidled menacingly around him until they were face to face. Pretending to be chewing gum, (she didn’t fancy chewing tobacco – even if it was pretend!) Amy slouched her hips and rolled her shoulders, gunslinger styley. “Is that so, Pilgrim?’ she drawled menacingly, dragging out the ‘soooo’ with relish. Spitting out her imaginary gum, she went for her hips! ‘Prove it!” Amy challenged enthusiastically, holding him dead to rights with her finger-guns.

The Doctor looked a bit startled by the sudden movement, and then a stubborn reluctance settled across his features. “Don’t want to.” He mumbled petulantly into his collar, as he shuffled about awkwardly.

“Ha! I knew it!’ Amy crowed triumphantly. Moving even closer to him, so that he was forced to look her in the eyes, she jeered, “All talk and no trousers! That’s you, Doctor!” Then she let out a surprised ‘Yip!’ and thrust her hips against him violently, slapping both her hands onto her buttocks! The Doctor leapt away with remarkable alacrity, landing in a crouch some distance away.

“Steady on, Pond!’ he shouted, eyes wide with surprise. ‘You can take a joke too far, you know!”

“Ow!’ yelled Amy plaintively, apparently practicing her Pogo, with a bit of modified Bavarian schuhplattler thrown in for good measure. ‘Something’s biting me, Doctor!

‘Oww!

‘Don’t just stand there, Doctor!

‘Do something!”

More than a little flustered, the Doctor rose from his defensive crouch and cautiously approached his distraught companion. He patted the air vaguely in her direction, in what he hoped was a placating fashion. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do! (Cybermen? Walk in the park! Daleks? Eeeeeeeeasy peasy! A distressed young lady with ‘ants in her pants’? Hmmm… Run away?)

“Just hold still for a moment, if you can, Pond. I can’t do anything with you hopping about like that!’ He beseeched, clasping his hands together, fingers locked before his chin. Then, assuming his most reassuring ‘It’s okay, I’m the Doctor’ look, he continued. ‘Now… I need you to take your hands away, and turn around so that I can see what the trouble is…”

Amy, who had managed to control her manic twitching a little by now, saw a perfect opportunity for some more teasing! (And, since her discomfort was bound to be the Doctor’s fault anyway, she was in no mood to show any mercy!) Widening her eyes at him in mock alarm and surprise, Amy reclaimed her hands and clapped them before herself enthusiastically. “Ooh!’ She gushed shamelessly, in as posh an accent as she could manage. ‘A spanking! Are we going to have a spanking?” (The results were more than she could have hoped for!)

“Certainly not!’ Squeaked the Doctor, as he reared back from her in horror!

But all too soon he cleared his throat in an embarrassed fashion, trying to regain control of his vocal cords. ‘Hmm… I see what you’re doing there, Pond, don’t think that I don’t!’ He harrumphed, as he shook an admonishing finger at her - trying to disguise the fact that she had caught him totally off guard. ‘Honestly…’ he complained, as he began rummaging around in his pockets, ‘the sooner we get you married off to Mr. Pond, the better, as far as I’m concerned. I’m beginning to wish that I’d never introduced you to Monty Python in the first place!” (This last was mumbled under his breath, as he turned his attention to an inner jacket pocket.)

Amy felt a little disappointed that the Doctor had caught on so quickly this time – she enjoyed watching him squirm! She was totally unaware that she was unconsciously cradling her offended parts once more, as she asked, somewhat sulkily, “So what are you going to do?”

With a relieved exclamation of triumph, the Doctor announced, “I’m going to use…’ He produced his sonic screwdriver from inside his jacket dramatically! Brandishing it before himself, as if he had just performed a magic trick, he declared, ‘...this little beauty, of course!” His grin of exultant ‘Doctor to the rescue’ self-satisfaction began to droop, just a little, when he looked at Pond…

Who was staring at his favourite fix-everything gadget like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming tank-transporter.

Amy took full advantage of the Doctor’s renewed uncertainty. (She decided that, if and when she ever got back to a normal life, she would try her hand at this acting lark. She was really rather good at it, she thought!) “What?’ she asked the Doctor, in what she hoped was a tone combining apprehension, intrigue, and a good measure of nervous interest, ‘In front of all these people?” She glanced around the crowded concourse slowly, then returned her attention to the Doctor, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Unfortunately, the lascivious smirk that she had intended to add (as a coup de grace!) died aborning. Her carefully crafted innuendos flew straight over the Doctor’s head – without even leaving a parting in his rambunctious hair! Instead, he was examining the thronging crowds pensively, unconsciously tapping the Sonic against his jutting chin. “You may have something there, Pond…” he began.

“Too right I have, Matey Boy!’ Amy interrupted hotly, ‘and whatever it is – it’s still biting my bum!”

The Doctor shot her an irritated frown, as he surreptitiously replaced the Sonic inside his jacket. “You’re doing that deliberately, aren’t you?

‘I meant that you are probably correct, using the Sonic out here would draw too much attention.’ He gripped Amy firmly by the arm and began to guide her towards the emergency stairwell beside the entryway. ‘Just try to act normally, Pond,’ he murmured under his breath, ‘and stop jigging about so much. People are beginning to stare. You look like you need to use the little girl’s room!”

What Amy really wanted to do was hit him again (which was probably why he’d made sure to pinion her arm, she surmised,) but she settled for kicking the nearest shin. “Ow!’ he yelped, providing some small satisfaction. ‘Really, Pond, you must learn to control these violent tendencies!

‘Actually, I think I might know what’s causing the problem for you, it shouldn’t too take long to fix!”

“So what is it, then?” Amy asked, as she allowed the Doctor to guide her through the (apparently) little-used entryway. She wasn’t all that surprised to find that nobody else was inside the stairwell – why use the stairs when there were so many other easier, and much more interesting, ways to get about?

“Well,’ the Doctor began as they descended the first flight of stairs, ‘I think it might possibly be sort of my fault, actually.’ (He manfully ignored his companion’s distinctly unfeminine snort of derision.) ‘You know that loose change, those jewels that I gave you – all those shiny things that Pond’s like?”

By now they had reached the next landing, so Amy pulled herself free and spun to face the Doctor, crossing her arms aggressively across her chest. It would have looked quite intimidating, if she hadn’t suddenly squawked in shock, and begun slapping at her buttocks as if they were on fire! To her intense annoyance, the Doctor seemed to be paying no attention to her, thoroughly engrossed as he was with his sonic screwdriver. With an odd sense of dislocation, Amy found herself reminded of being patronized and condescended to by Dr. Prestwick back home, as the Doctor raised his Sonic and scrutinized it judiciously…

“Now then, Pond...’ he began, sounding uncannily like every male G.P. Amy had ever met. ‘This won’t hurt a bit! Just turn around – and try to hold still, please – so I can give your pockets a quick zap!”

Amy wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to have her bottom ‘zapped’, and clutched herself protectively. “What does that mean, exactly?” She asked, looking at the Doctor suspiciously.

“Oh come on, Pond!’ He grumped impatiently, resting his fists on his hips and trying to look disparaging. ‘Do you want me to sort you out or not?’ When he received no response – not even to such an irresistible opening line – the Doctor realised that his friend was actually much more upset and nervous than she wanted him to see.  He sighed and relaxed, his whole posture radiating apology and reassurance. “I’m sorry, Pond. It’s really quite simple, all I’m going to do is... this…’

The Sonic emitted a soothing hum as he activated it, and a bright blue glow lit its tip. The Doctor waved it around slowly, as if expecting it to produce wobbly, translucent bubbles. The effect was quite hypnotic. Then he offered Pond a radiant smile and bowed towards her, splaying his arms in a ‘Tada!’ ending. ‘You see, there really is nothing more to it than that! I don’t even need to get any closer to you, I can do it from over here!’ He gazed at her pensively for a moment, then continued earnestly, ‘But I really do need you to turn around. So that I can… see the target, as it were.”

“Well… Okay then.’ Amy agreed, making sure that the Doctor knew that she was not at all happy about this situation. ‘But last I heard, you couldn’t hit a barn door with a boomerang, even if you were tied to it!’ Turning to face the wall she continued speaking. ‘And if I hear you making any comments about the size of this particular target – you are going to get a serious slapping!’ Reluctantly, Amy slid her hands around so that they rested on her thighs then, with a toss of her head, enquired, ‘So. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or not?” She heard the Sonic begin its melodic warbling, and the Doctor began to speak ruminatively, apparently lost in thought,

“Well, it’s a bit embarrassing, really. You see, I’ve only just remembered…’ He raised his eyes from the Sonic, sighting towards Pond’s posterior, and added defensively. ‘But it was a long time ago, and so much has happened since – it’s easy to lose the odd memory or two!”

“I get it, Doctor!’ Pond interjected quickly, although she already sounded slightly less irritated. As the soothing influence of his screwdriver made itself felt, she even managed to joke. ‘Your head is probably like the Tardis – bigger on the inside! But could you just skip to the edited highlights, please?”

“Ah… Right you are then... 

'I think that some of those jewels are actually crystalline creatures from the planet Aspaxa, which I visited a very long time ago. Strangely enough, the Aspaxans used those same crystal creatures as currency…’ He was lowering himself to one knee as he spoke, adjusting the setting on his sonic screwdriver slightly. He was pleased to note that the tension appeared to be melting from Pond’s shoulders, and he gazed into the glowing blue tip of the Sonic as he continued. ‘Anyway, I found myself confined on Aspaxa with Sabalom Glitz…”

“Eeeyuuw!’ Pond suddenly cringed, ‘That sounds nasty! It’s not contagious is it? I mean… you’re all better now, right?”

The Doctor peered intently at Pond, trying to work out if she was being serious. He couldn’t really tell much from the back of her head, so decided to ignore the outburst. “Glitz is/was a ne’re do well reprobate, whom it has been my misfortune to encounter more often than I would like. He was always running some sort of scam!’ Suddenly changing the subject, the Doctor squinted, asking, ‘How do you feel now, Pond? Is it having any effect?”

“Mmmmm…” Amy confirmed.

In truth, the sharp littles nips and pinches had faded away a short while ago. The simple absence of pain was sheer bliss! However, she saw no reason to tell the Doctor that! Not only did she want him to finish his story, but the ethereal serenade from his Sonic was deeply soothing. She found herself basking in a state of serene contentment, so it was a while before she noticed that the Time Lord had gone quiet. “Doctor?” She enquired, slightly concerned.

Perhaps triggered by the question, a gravelly, raspy voice that she didn’t recognise began to sing.

“Klokleda partha menniin klatch,

‘Haroon, haroon, haroon,

‘Klokleda shunna teerenach,

‘Haroon, haroon, haroon,”

“Doctor?” Amy slowly, almost reluctantly, swiveled around to see what was going on; only to find the Time Lord crouched on one knee, waving the glowing Sonic vaguely.

“Haroon, haroon, haroo-oo-oon,

‘Haroon…”

She had to shake him quite roughly to break the Doctor out of his trance, until he was blinking up at her myopically. It was a whole nerve-wracking second before he registered her presence. “Pond!’ he barked in surprise, ‘What are you doing on Peladon?” Before Amy could even begin to respond, he started blinking even more rapidly, shaking his head twitchily; then he clamped a hand over the glowing end of his Sonic. “Ignore that! It’s alright! I think I know what happened! Did it work? Is it okay to turn this off now?”

At Amy’s assurance that she was no longer suffering any ill effects, the Doctor grinned in relief, deactivating his screwdriver with a flourish. “Remind me never to use that setting again, won’t you, Pond?” He asked, as he raised himself unsteadily to his feet – with Amy’s concerned assistance – by dint of dragging himself up the wall.

“Are you alright, Doctor?’ She asked in a worried tone, as he stood there wobbling and blinking. ‘What happened to you?”

Still shaking his head, and swaying somewhat precariously, the Doctor firmly deposited the Sonic inside his jacket. “Nothing to worry about, Pond!’ he grinned (at where Amy wasn’t!) ‘Just accidentally set up a psychic feedback loop! Now that the Sonic is de-activated, I shouldn’t have any further problems!” Amy winced as he turned around, and walked directly into the wall behind. “Ah.’ He said quietly, nose pressed flat. ‘Wasn’t expecting that.”

By now Amy was so worried that she had almost forgotten why they were there in the first place! “Doctor!’ she cried. ‘Do you know where you are? Do you know who you are?”

“Well, of course I do, Pond! I’m me! Didn’t we already have this conversation? Now, I think that we need to get you out of those pants, pronto! Before anything else happens!”

Amy backed rapidly away in alarm, carefully weighing what she could say in response to that! The Doctor still looked pretty woozy, and she wasn’t entirely convinced that he knew what he was saying. “Um…’ she ventured tentatively... ‘You mean that we need to get these Aspaxan Crystal Creatures out of my pockets?”

“Of course, Pond!’ replied the Doctor, once more fumbling through his own pockets, ‘That’s what I just told them! Weren’t you listening?”

Uncertain whether to feel relieved or disappointed at that, Amy settled for plain old confused, and began retrieving gemstones from her back pockets. The Doctor, having produced a small container from somewhere, held it out so that she could deposit the jewels inside. “Well done, Pond!’ the Doctor enthused as he capped the container, ‘I’m so glad we sorted that out! Shall we get back to our investigating?”

He looked as if he intended to start jogging back up the stairs again immediately, so Amy detained him by gripping onto the container. “Hang about, you!’ She demanded crossly, ‘you still haven’t told me what was biting me – not properly!”

“Haven’t I?’ asked the Doctor. Even though he looked surprised and perplexed – at least he looked more like himself than he had a moment ago. ‘I thought I explained all that?’ He frowned in confusion at the container of gemstones as he reclaimed it from her. ‘Didn’t I explain all that?” he asked it.

“Well, you began to, Doctor,’ Amy allowed generously, ‘but then… I think you must have hypnotized yourself.

'You started singing a lullaby to my bottom!”

Looking extremely dubious at this claim, the Doctor leaned closer, peering deeply into her eyes. Unable to gather any clues that way, he asked rather incuriously, “really?’ Then immediately shrugged it off as if it wasn’t important. Instead he began to straighten out his lapels, muttering nonchalantly. ‘So then, Pond, how far did I actually get?”

Amy thought for a couple of seconds, then began.

‘Haroon, haroon, haroo-oo-oon,

‘Haroon…”

“Not the lullaby, Pond!’ The Doctor interrupted, impatiently. ‘How far did I get with my explanation?”

“Oh! Not very far at all, actually! You know, Doctor, sometimes you can be a real pain in the ar…”

“Well, why don’t I start again, eh?” The Time Lord interrupted again. (Even faster this time!) Smiling madly, he rubbed his hands together briskly, as if offering Amy a tempting treat…


	4. Chapter 4

By the time they had reached the top once more, Amy had – thanks to the Doctor’s slow ascent, and rapid-fire delivery – learned more about this Sabalom Glitz bloke than she really wanted to!

Apparently he was some kind of self-styled space pirate, but preferred to consider himself a ‘loveable rogue’. The Doctor had answered a distress call, which he believed to be from one of his mates. “Thing is,’ he told her,‘ I used to give extra special friends a kind of emergency call device, in case they were in dire straits. So that they could send a message through the Vortex, like a call for help… If they needed me… This was before they invented mobile phones on Earth, of course.’

“You what? You mean other planets have mobiles as well?”

“Naturally! Well, they used to. Most sentient species eventually make them illegal… Although some have them directly implanted into their brains instead…”   

“What? That’s taking ‘hands-free’ a bit far, isn’t it’ Amy blurted in surprise, not entirely sure if the Doctor was being serious, or just pulling her leg. ‘Why would anyone do either of those things?”

“Oh, well, it just depends on how a species reacts to the erosion of individual intelligence. In many cases, the smarter the phones got, the less people actually needed to think or remember. I mean, why bother to actually learn anything, when all you need is a few thumb taps? Most species don’t really get too worried, not until the kids start getting their phones to do their homework, at least. But as it becomes more and more dependent on this artificial source of intelligence – to the extent that many people become incapable of functioning without their phone – a society has two choices. They can either try to reduce that dependence, or embrace it. I’ve sometimes wondered why the Cybermen have never tried to take over that way – it’s got to be easier than some of their invasion attempts!  Anyway! I answered this distress call…”

“Hold on! How come this Glitz berk had one of your emergency call things in the first place? I didn’t think you liked him?”

“Well, I didn’t actually give it to him, did I? Cheeky blighter must’ve pilfered it on one of our previous encounters!”

Evidently, on arriving to investigate, the Doctor had eventually discovered Glitz involved in yet another scam. On this occasion, the rapscallion (Doctor’s word) had discovered a convenient flaw in the economic infrastructure of the planet Aspaxa. It was a cold world and, bizarrely enough, the Aspaxans were a coldblooded species. They had absolutely no idea that the gemstones that underpinned their financial base were actually living creatures!

Naturally, as one of the first non-Aspaxans to arrive on the planet – apparently he had been evading capture for some other scheme that had gone awry – Sabalom had decided to keep this juicy little nugget shtum! Starting out small, he had begun to ‘breed’ Aspaxan money in his ship, and use it to purchase as many rarities and valuables as he could get his grubby little mitts on. (The gemstones went dormant immediately, outside this warmer environment!)

Of course, greed and avarice eventually overcame him, when he realised that he couldn’t fit much more ill-gotten loot into his starship’s hold, so he had decided to up his game. By the time the Doctor arrived, he was already on the run again – hence the distress call – and the Time Lord had found himself tarred with the same brush. Glitz’ mistake, the Doctor claimed, was in getting too ambitious. Not only had he purchased a storage facility that he converted to his own particular needs, but he had also contacted various nefarious associates, offering them a piece of the action. (“I just wanted to branch out a bit, Doc. Expand the business.’ was apparently Glitz’ rather feeble excuse. ‘You know, get in a few sub-contractors – let them do all the work while I pocket most of the Grotzit’s! Standard business practice, innit?”)

Unfortunately, never having earned an honest penny in his life, the old pirate hadn’t even thought about possible consequences. Obviously, once these ‘sub-contractors’ had set up operations around the planet, the influx of additional currency became impossible to miss! The Doctor had barely had time to assimilate the story that Glitz told him, when they were both caught and placed under arrest!

“So how did you talk your way out of that?” Amy asked, hardly daring to breath.

“Well, I didn’t really. After three days in confinement, Glitz and I were charged with plotting the economic collapse of Aspaxan society – found guilty, and sentenced to death!”

Amy stopped him just as he was about to open the door to the arcade. “Come again?” She asked. (Quite reasonably, in her estimation.)

The Doctor grinned at her over his shoulder, then turned to lean back against the door. (Risky move, Amy thought, waiting to see if anyone would open it from the other side…) “Ah, well, that’s the clever bit, Pond! You see, the Aspaxan authorities were great believers in poetic justice! Having noticed all the bites that Glitz had received during his shenanigans, they decided to let the remaining crystal creatures in his production facility eat us!”

“You sound surprisingly pleased about that!” Amy noted, with some surprise.

“Well, I was!

‘Of course, Glitz whined and pleaded all the way to our execution, but I hadn’t told him, because he would have given the game away!”

“Told him what?”

“That I had been able to establish communication with the crystal creatures! When I explained the situation to everyone, Glitz included, Sabalom managed a remarkable performance for anyone still listening outside. While he was screaming his – long, and very drawn out – death agonies; my shiny friends managed to burrow a tunnel back to the Tardis’ door! Amazing, eh?”

“That sounds like The Great Escape!”

“It was a great escape! Not only did Glitz and I get away, but I was able to transport all of the active crystal creatures to a planet where they could live properly, without going dormant all the time. It’s rather obvious now, but apparently I must have mislaid a few of them!”

Amy frowned in thought for a moment, then asked. “But what happened to the Aspaxan economy, and what about all the poor little crystals that you left behind?”

Crossing his arms, the Doctor sighed and leaned more heavily against the door. He looked a little sad as he replied. “Pond, Pond, Pond – what can I say? As much as I would like to, I can’t always help everyone. If it makes you feel any better, in their dormant state, the Aspaxan Crystal Creatures are totally unaware. Practically dead, to all intents and purposes! As for the planet’s financial situation, well I don’t usually pay much attAAARRGGHH!”

Almost as if Amy’s earlier thoughts had jinxed him, the Doctor somersaulted backwards out of the door, which had suddenly been flung open! She heard a muffled “Mmmff! Ffowwyyy!” from somewhere, but paid no attention as she chased the rolling Time Lord into the atrium.

“Doctor!’ Amy hissed at him, suddenly aware of all the curious scrutiny that they were attracting, ‘Are you alright?’ Then she looked up and smiled, politely waving away a couple of squidgy looking good Samaritan’s. ‘No, it’s okay, thank you! We can manage. He just tripped over his tongue!” She assured them.

“Did I really?’ asked the Doctor, rising rather unsteadily to his feet, and waving away Amy’s offer of assistance. ‘We must stop meeting like this, Pond. It’s most disconcerting!’ He patted himself down, checking that everything was still where it should be. ‘I don’t know about you, but I think I could do with a bit of a sit down, for a moment or two. Maybe something to drink? I spotted just the place a little earlier. Shall we?”

Totally oblivious to the funny looks he was still getting, the Doctor offered Pond his arm, indicating that he would lead the way. Amy took a quick glance around the throng, trying to spot who (or what) had actually opened the door. On realising the futility of this – she couldn’t tell what anyone’s expression meant anyway, how would she spot the guilty party? – Amy accepted the offered arm. “So where are you taking me then, Doctor? Somewhere nice and expensive, I hope!”

“I really wouldn’t know about that, Pond,’ the Doctor admitted, guiding her along the side of the central pool, ‘Time Lords don’t usually do money. Although I will have to make sure that the Aspaxan Crystal Creatures get safely back to the Tardis.”

Amy, who had been gawping up at the huge tree/fountain, suddenly realised something as he said this. “Hold on a minute, Doctor, let’s back up a bit! What you were actually saying, is that they woke up because they were in my pockets, right?’ She did a little victory punch in the air and, before he could reply, shouted. ‘Yes! I told you I’ve got a hot bod!”

“Well, naturally, Pond,’ replied the Doctor, totally missing the point, ‘Unlike the Aspaxans, you are hot-blooded! We’re just fortunate that these crystals happened to be in a cold storage room in the Tardis, otherwise there could have been trouble!”

“Spoilsport!’ Amy grumped good-naturedly, fabricating a pout for the Doctor’s benefit. ‘You take all the fun out of it sometimes!

‘But it’s pretty warm in here,’ she noted, pretending to fan herself with the collar of her T-shirt. ‘Won’t they just wake up again?”

Patting his jacket with his free hand, the Time Lord replied cheerily, “Sorted! I put them in a miniature stasis-chamber! I know it works, used it before…” As he trailed off absently, Amy followed his gaze towards the group of exotic children playing at the shallow edge of the pool. As well as the little tree, who had by now rejoined its friends, there was some kind of lizard-boy, a small cat-person…

Amy blinked. She could have sworn that one was ‘Cousin It’ from ‘The Addams Family’, except it was bright pink! Then there was an eyeball on a stick…

An eyeball on a stick?

Amy decided that she had seen enough – they all seemed to be having great fun splashing each other – what did it matter what they looked like?

She returned her attention to the Doctor, to find him studying her reactions with what could only be described as fond amusement! Then he winked at her and said, “Kids, eh?”

To cover her embarrassment (Don’t let me be blushing! Don’t let me be blushing!) Amy asked. “So where are you taking me, you never said!”

With a nod in the direction they were walking, he replied. “You’ll see it soon enough, Pond. It’s just around the corner of this centerpiece, on the far side of the concourse. It’s called The Happy Ogron.

“Come again?

‘I mean, do people ‘Ogre’ food here, instead of just eating it?”

“Ogron’s are a much maligned species, I’m afraid… One that I have had the misfortune to fall afoul of on several occasions. Unfortunately, they are known mainly as thugs and henchmen across the galaxy, which I have always considered a bit unfair. Even when they were trying to kill me…”

Amy goggled at him in disbelief, as the Doctor drew her to a halt a short distance from the water feature. “Kill you?” She gasped.

“Oh, it wasn’t really their fault, they just didn’t have much say in the matter. Much more advanced spacefaring species discovered them very early on in their development.

‘And used them as cannon fodder.

‘I’ve never actually seen a happy Ogron – so that piqued my curiosity…”

Amy turned to look where he was indicating, just as some sort of loudspeaker system started up in the background. “This is a customer announcement. We would like to remind any visitors who would like to attend…” Amy swore suddenly, as she heard a loud ‘Splash!’ from behind and was simultaneously sprayed with very cold water! “What the..?’ she yelped in annoyance and, automatically placing blame, exclaimed, ‘the cheeky little… so and so’s!” Amy rapidly modified her intended expletive when she saw that the Doctor just standing before her – perfectly dry! One hand clapped over his mouth, his eyes were glittering with amusement.

Then, seeing the fury welling up in Pond’s eyes, the Time Lord hurriedly took a grip on her shoulders, and rapidly assured her, “Sorry, Pond. Wasn’t laughing at you – I don’t think that you were the intended target – take a look!’ He gently turned her around until she was facing the paddling pool structure, whispering in her ear, ‘I rather think that you were just collateral damage!”

Even as small, chilled, droplets continued to trickle down her bare arms, Amy had to concede that the Doctor was probably correct, and she had great difficulty containing her own amusement. None of the kids were even looking in her direction! Instead, all looking considerably damper than they had been only moments earlier – they were pointing and laughing at the pink ‘Cousin It’ thing. It was drenched, and about half the size it had looked before. Even though Amy still couldn’t see any eyes, the poor little thing looked deeply puzzled by its sudden change in circumstances. Any incipient anger remaining evaporated… all she wanted to do was go and give the poor dear a cuddle!

“Come along, Pond, let’s leave the children to their play, hmm?” The Doctor suggested, giving her a light tap on the shoulder. As Amy reluctantly allowed him to lead her away, she noticed that the little kitten (it was so adorable – what else could it be?) had sat on the edge of the pool’s parapet. It was licking its paws, and beginning to groom itself fastidiously. Amy couldn’t resist giving it a little finger-wave when she caught its eye, and was rewarded with a glorious sharp-toothed smile!

“I’m actually a bit surprised at you making such a fuss, Pond.” Continued the Doctor, completely unaware of all this byplay. ‘A big, rufty-tufty space-adventuress like you, upset by a little bit of water!”

“Extremely cold water!” Amy clarified defensively, as she started to wipe her arms down.

“Pish and tosh – you wouldn’t even have noticed if you’d worn a jacket – as I originally suggested!”

“That was before we landed in the wrong place! I wouldn’t have needed a jacket if we’d gone where I wanted to!”

“London, 1977? Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“I suppose we’ll never know now, will we? Anyway, are you absolutely sure that you want to go into a place run by people that once wanted to kill you?”

“Oh, I probably exaggerated that a bit. I don’t think that they ever actually wanted to kill me.’ The Doctor began walking again, indicating the way once more. ‘They aren’t inherently bad people. Unfortunately, they faced dire consequences should they fail their ‘Master’s’ in any way. Not just themselves individually, Pond – their home-world was held hostage to their obedience.

‘Since they had a matriarchal social structure, all that their employers had to do was threaten to kill the Tribal Queen to ensure absolute loyalty. I’ve always wondered how they might have developed if left to evolve naturally…”

Amy had only been half listening, studying The Happy Ogron as they approached. It certainly looked popular enough, set back slightly from the main frontage; allowing for an ‘outside’ eating area. Judging by the number of people already there for a bite or a drink, it didn’t look particularly ominous, but Amy found herself asking. “Doctor? Is there any chance that this is what the Tardis detected? I mean, might she want us to investigate these Ogron characters, maybe?”

He suddenly stopped in med-step, turning to look at her incredulously, and almost laughed. “That’s ridiculous, Pond! I hardly think that a race like, for example, the Daleks… would be attempting to take over the Universe by opening a chain of fast food restaurants!’ Just as suddenly, a frown of concentration creased his brow, and he actually seemed to be giving the notion some serious consideration! Much to Amy’s alarm, the Doctor then slapped himself across the face! ‘Silly Doctor!’ he remonstrated, ‘You’re starting to go daft in your old age!”

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, the Time Lord grinned sheepishly, gesturing Pond towards the unusual establishment’s entrance again. After giving him one of her looks, Pond acceded to his request, and turned away from him. As soon as he was sure that Pond couldn’t see, the Doctor clapped a hand to his sore cheek and twisted about: almost doubling over in silent agony, and miming a hugely exaggerated ‘Owwwwww!”

When he opened his eyes again a second later, he found himself face to face with a small… teddy bear? It was sucking a lollipop enthusiastically, and studying him in rapt fascination! The Doctor straightened up smiling, with a friendly wave of the fingers, then he mouthed a cheery ‘hello!’ The little creature offered him a suck on its lolly, which he politely declined, before hurrying to catch up with Pond.

She appeared to be fighting not to laugh as he drew up alongside her. The Doctor assumed that Pond was amused by the antics of a multi-mouthed modular being, as its confused table tried to work out what level it should be hovering at. Until she said, without turning to look at him. “I saw that, you know?”

“Oh, really?’ He asked innocently. ‘Saw what?”

Amy was unable to keep up her placid façade, and her eyes were twinkling as she turned to look at him. With a huge grin, she winked at the Doctor, before turning him to face the frontage of the restaurant, and murmuring, “Why not take a look for yourself!”

“Ah…’ he said, noticing for the first time that the eating area wasn’t quite as large as he had originally thought – much of it being a reflection in The Happy Ogron’s mirrored window. As casually as he could, the Time Lord began to study his own reflection: using it to adjust the fit of his bow tie, smooth down the lines of his jacket, and briskly flip his hair about until it met his satisfaction. ‘Well…’, he offered, moving his head from side to side as he gave his forelock some final flicks, ‘Didn’t actually mean to hit myself quite that hard. Actually.”

“Well, are we going in, or not?” Pond asked him, indicating that he should take point.

With a final tug on his lapels, and an admiring glance at the results of his primping, the Time Lord approached the part of the frontage that looked most like a door. He was not surprised when that area simply phased out before him – just like the entrance to the shopping centre itself – but he was a little startled when a bright voice yelled, “Welcome to The Happy Ogron! We hope you enjoy your visit!”

This was accompanied by a noticeable increase in the ambient volume but, after a reassuring wink at Pond, the Doctor ventured boldly across the threshold.


	5. Chapter 5

The interior of the establishment was reassuringly clean looking, (as was the entire shopping centre, so far,) but much smaller than either of them had expected. There were only a few hovering tables, waiting patiently around the otherwise empty floor space, but there weren’t any customers inside. The ubiquitous Musak was loud, but not too loud. It was teetering on that almost annoying edge, where Amy found herself compelled to raise her voice instinctively.

“I can see why everyone is eating outside!’ Amy shouted in the Doctor’s ear, then stepped back in surprise as one of the floating platforms nudged at her hip hopefully. “Hey!’ she scolded it crossly, ‘What’s your game?”

“Ah, allow me, Pond!’ the Doctor quickly jumped in. “No, thank you, we won’t be needing a table just yet. We’ll be quite happy at the bar.’ He gave it a cheery wave as it resumed its waiting position by the side wall. Amy could have sworn that the table looked disappointed! The Doctor was looking towards the aforementioned bar as he opined, ‘It’s quite a clever system, when you think about it. Given the variety of customers you’ll get in such a cosmopolitan environment, it makes sense to have an eating surface that can adjust its own height. Funny though’, he mused, looking faintly puzzled, ‘I could have sworn that I saw someone at the bar, but the place seems deserted now.”

Amy began to amble over to the impressive counter, which occupied the entire length of the far wall, absently noting the distinct absence of a bartender. There were several, more familiar looking, gleaming chrome barstools arranged along its front. A remarkable variety of exotic wares were displayed on the shelves behind it. At the very end of the counter was what looked like some kind of alien espresso machine, coughing and spluttering away to itself. (Loud enough to be heard over the Musak!)

She turned back as the Doctor remarked, “You know, from inside you can’t even tell that the glass is mirrored!” Amy shook her head, quietly amused that he found the large window so interesting. She pressed down on a barstool, to see if it was safe to sit on, and was about to call “Shop!” when something shot up behind the bar!

“Huhr, hurh, hurh!” It roared, in a deep basso profondo. (Apparently it was laughing!)

“Yaaarrgh!’ Amy cried involuntarily, as she leapt away in alarm, ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

Attracted by the noise (naturally!) the Doctor turned from studying the scene outside in time to see the unmistakable form of an Ogron. It appeared to be astonished to see Pond cowering there, but recovered with a huge grin and announced. “Is surprise!”

“What is?’ demanded Amy as she straightened up, glaring angrily at the bartender and placing her hands aggressively on her hips. “Pretending to be an eight foot tall jack-in-a-box, and scaring the living daylights out of your customers?”

The Doctor raced over to intervene as fast as he could. “Now then, Pond, I’m sure that he didn’t mean any harm! Remember what I was telling you about Ogron’s? Perhaps I should do the ordering for both of us…” He gave her his best ‘imploring puppy dog’ eyes as he gripped her shoulders. The effect was somewhat lessened as his hair tried to intervene, but he was relieved to see his friend calm down slightly.

The Ogron, who had been following the exchange closely, said “Sorry, Miss,’ somewhat sheepishly, ‘Bar Thing not mean to scare!”

This was just the opening the Doctor had been waiting for. Amy was visibly mollified by the apology so – now that he was fairly confident that she wasn’t about to hurl herself over the bar and bite it – he turned to get his first good look at the big Ogron. Initially, he had only really registered the fact that it was an Ogron – the size and visage being rather unmistakable. The Time Lord’s eyes now widened in surprise, as he took a good look at the creature’s eccentric outfit for the first time…

“Ah… Like the hat!’ he enthused rapidly to cover his surprise, ‘Ooh! And a bow tie as well… bow ties are cool!” He flicked at his own as he said this, raising a proud chin towards the bartender and grinning winningly.

“Is good, yes?’ growled the bizarre apparition before him, clearly pleased at being complimented. ‘Is Happy Ogron uniform! I Bar Thing! How I help?”

The Doctor licked his lips and surreptitiously glanced at Amy from the corner of his eyes. Now that she had recovered from her initial surprise, his fiery young friend was also studying the hulking figure in fascination. From the way her lips were quirking and quivering, it looked as if Amy was fighting the urge to laugh. Not that he could blame her! Bar Thing was quite unlike any Ogron the Doctor had ever met before… Although he was as black skinned and solid looking as any of his species, seemingly carved whole from a block of Obsidian, Bar Thing’s Neanderthal visage was softened by an enthusiastic smile.

He had remarkably white teeth, the Time Lord couldn’t help but notice. He also had white eyebrows, and a fringe of white hair that – presumably – framed the traditional Ogron bald crown, and manly white hair swathed his bare forearms. However, the top of his head was hidden beneath a bright pink top hat, and the starched white collar that struggled to encompass his tree-trunk neck was held in place by a perfectly executed bow tie – also pink. (Just the collar though – there was no shirt beneath it! Simply a vast expanse of gleaming jet muscle, modestly sporting exquisitely groomed… white chest hair.)

However, probably more from considerations of practicality than modesty, the Ogron’s uniform mostly consisted of a bright pink ‘butchers’ apron with hideous lime green stripes, with a name badge marked ‘Bar Thing’ pinned in pride of place on the left breast. The Doctor blinked, secretly grateful that anything else the Ogron might be wearing was hidden behind the counter! “Erm…’ he prevaricated, ‘I hadn’t really thought about what we might want, actually. How about you, Pond. See anything you fancy?”

Amy gave him a startled glance, then made to advance towards him with a threatening glimmer in her eyes. “To drink, Pond!’ the Doctor hurriedly clarified, backing away slightly, ‘What do you want to drink?” She smirked at him and winked, evidently pleased with her performance, then allowed her gaze to drift towards the gleaming machine at the end of the counter.

It appeared to be trying to escape, and making a lot of noise about it in the process. “Does that do coffee, Bar Thing?” She asked, slightly dubiously.

“Yes…’

“Then I’ll have…”

‘But is broke. Can’t fix. Bar Thing very angry! Fixer not come yet!”

“Oh! Well in that case…’ Amy looked along the impressive display of bottles, boxes, and strange, unidentifiable objects on offer behind the counter. ‘What’s in that purple bottle that won’t stop jiggling about?” She asked, pointing at the container that had caught her eye.

“Pickled Glurblesnogs,’ Bar Thing replied, without even needing to turn and look, ‘Don’t sell much. You first person to ask! Want some?” He seemed almost pathetically eager to make this particular sale!

Amy went slightly green and swallowed uncomfortably, shooting a quick glance at the Doctor. “Don’t look at me!” he mimed with a shrug, never having met a Glurblesnog before. (Pickled or otherwise.)

“Um, I’ll just have a bottle of water, Bar Thing. Thanks. How about you, Doctor?”

The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, nodding to himself as he spoke. “Well, I’ve always liked the sound of a Sarsaparilla, but I’m not entirely sure what it is. Do I like Sarsaparilla, Pond?’ She gave him a wide armed “How should I know?” shrug.

He began to pace around a little, apparently quite taken with this train of thought. ‘It sounds like something I would like! Sarsaparilla! It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?’

He threw his arms out, as if releasing a dove into flight, and enthused, ‘Saaaarsaparillaaaa!

‘Yes!

‘I think I’ll have a Sarsaparilla please, Bar Thing!”

“Not got.” Replied a somewhat uncomfortable sounding Ogron.

The Doctor’s expression of childlike anticipation fled from his face in disappointment. He found himself fiddling uncomfortably with his tie as he looked over at Amy, but he jutted out his chin determinedly and announced. “Ah… So, that’s two bottles of water then, Bar Thing, if you would be so kind!”

The huge bartender nodded and began to lumber towards the shelves at the back. Suddenly there was a high pitched ‘Yeeeek!’ which abruptly cut off, and he looked down in surprise. It seemed as if he was about to examine whatever he had stepped on, when a slightly disturbed Amy enquired...

“What was that, Bar Thing?” It sounded, to the Doctor, as if she didn’t really want know the answer.

The Ogron stood upright immediately, giving both his customers a slightly guilty look. “Mouse’s!” he declared defiantly.

Amy exchanged a worried look with the Doctor.

“You have mouse’s’ – I mean – mice in here?’ She asked in appalled disbelief, ‘Don’t you have Health and Safety in this place?”

Bar Thing looked slightly affronted at the suggestion, and replied indignantly, “Not for mouse’s’!’

He jabbed a finger at his chest, and announced proudly, ‘Bar Thing squish!”

The Doctor, who was beginning to find the whole situation just a little too ridiculous to deal with, commented quietly. “It must have been quite a big mouse…”

Bar Thing leaned back towards him conspiratorially, and lowered his voice so that he wouldn’t be heard by anyone on the next continent, “Ogron mouse’s’!” He winked knowledgably, then nodded in affirmation towards Amy, before turning back to his bar tending duties.

Amy sidled up to the Doctor and punched him on the shoulder. “I’ll get us a table outside – you can deal with this nut-job!” she growled. Before the Doctor could even begin to protest, she had whirled around and marched towards the exit.

It could have been one of the all-time best ‘storming off in a huff’ moments, if the disappearing door hadn’t chimed out as she left. “Thank you for your custom!’ It roared. ‘Please visit us again soon!” Amy refused to acknowledge the door, hunching her shoulders and scooting out as quickly as she could.

The Doctor decided that it would be best just to let Pond find a table in the more convivial atmosphere outside so, aborting any attempt to call her back, he turned back to face the counter. He found that Bar Thing had miraculously retrieved two bottles of what – he was fairly convinced – were good, old-fashioned, H2O. However, the Ogron didn’t seem too happy about it. “Why so glum, Bar Thing?” the Doctor asked, unable to help himself.

“Door more stupid than Ogron!” the bartender grumped. “Talks all time… say’s nothing!” The Doctor was unsure how to respond to this. It was on the tip of his tongue to jestingly mention that he’d met quite a few people like that, but decided against it. He was about to ask the price of the water, when Bar Thing rumbled, “You want glass, or drink from bottle? Is chilled!”

“Ah, I think the bottles will be fine – then we can take them with us if we decide to wander!’ The Time Lord leant on the bar as the Ogron unscrewed the bottle-caps, adding, ‘But perhaps we could have a couple of straws?”

Bar Thing just nodded as he placed the opened bottles on the counter, and then reached beneath it to retrieve two straws. As he popped one into each bottle, he asked. “Want eats? Special of today is…”

“Let me guess…’ interrupted the Doctor, holding up a hand for forbearance, ‘Squished mouse’s’?”

Bar Thing regarded him with astonished admiration. “How you know?” He asked in an awe-stricken tone.

“Oh, you know, Bar Thing, just a shot in the dark! Now then, what do I owe…?”

Suddenly, an unworldly shriek split the air, and the Time Lord was forced to clamp his hands across his ears. This was doubly alarming, the Doctor thought, considering that it appeared to come from outside the Bar! It was over in a second, but his ears were still ringing as he lowered his hands. Bar Thing was giving him a very odd look.

“Didn’t you hear that?” The Doctor asked incredulously, cautiously patting his ears.

“Hear what?” Asked the puzzled bartender.

The Doctor was about to answer, when another thought ambushed his tongue. “Pond!” He cried out in alarm, whirling around so fast that he almost stumbled, then dashed towards the door.

It bellowed. “Thank you for your custom! Please visit us again soon!” as he passed, but the Doctor ignored it entirely.

 Although he’d seen Pond clearly through the window, obviously unharmed, he was unable to prevent himself from rushing out to his confused looking friend. “Are you alright, Pond?” He gasped, in a voice verging on panic.

So he didn’t hear the indignant cry from within The Happy Ogron, as an incensed Bar Thing shouted. “Hey! Where you go? You not pay for drinks!”


	6. Chapter 6

When Amy had left the Doctor to deal with that great oaf inside The Happy Ogron, the first thing that she noticed was that there wasn’t actually any seating in the seating area! Glancing casually around at the variety of other patrons, she realised that they were all sitting, squatting, or otherwise balancing on the floor itself. Each party was being attended by a solicitous hovering platform, most managing to float at just the right height for the customer in question.

With a shrug, Amy found a clear space for herself, not far from what looked like a family group of teddy bears. Then she just plopped herself down, crossing her legs as if she intended to practice some yogic flying. Almost immediately, a table zipped up from nowhere, settling itself companionably before her at waist level. Amy was surprised when, after a few moments of patient waiting, the platform manifested a menu screen on its surface, and began scrolling through a bewildering array of choices. (‘Where does the food come from?’ She found herself wondering idly. ‘I didn’t see any sign of cooking facilities in the bar!”)

As the list continued without end, Amy realised that her table was expecting her to make a choice! Feeling just a little bit foolish, she cleared her throat and told it that she was waiting for someone, and he had already ordered their drinks. The table thought about this for a couple of seconds, and then the screen changed to display something else.

After a moments careful study, Amy realised that it was a combined map/advertisement of the delights on offer in this particular Arcade. (And, she noticed, there was a side-bar menu that suggested that there was much more to be explored elsewhere.) Just as she was about to thank her helpful table, and ask if there was any possibility of a portable display device or printout; an unworldly shriek split the air!

The table reacted remarkably quickly as Amy shot to her feet, clamping her hands to her ears. It instantly zoomed straight upwards, presumably to avoid knocking into any other customers. (All of whom were just carrying on with whatever they were doing, totally oblivious to any distractions!)

Apart from Amy herself, of course, who was getting quite a few curious looks from those sitting closest – particularly the smallest teddy bear. She was just beginning to compose herself, poking an ear with a little finger to clear the buzzing, when a breathless Doctor ran up to her.

“Are you alright, Pond?” He asked urgently, studying her with apparent concern.

“You what? You didn’t think that was me, did you? When have I ever made a noise like that?’ Then she paused for a moment’s consideration, adding before he could reply. ‘Hang on a minute? You heard that too?”

“Well, it was kind of hard not to, Pond!”

“This lot seem to have managed it!” Amy replied, nodding around at the other shoppers and patrons. (Little Ted gave them a shy wave, then pointed up at Amy’s table, which didn’t seem to be sure if it was safe to return, or not.)

“Hmm…’ the Time Lord replied skeptically. As he looked around for himself, he yawned hugely, waggling his jaw about until his ears popped, then turned a piercing look in her direction. ‘You didn’t happen to notice where it came from, by any chance?”

“Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure,’ Amy replied, not liking where this was going. ‘But I think it might have come from over there, on the other side of that big tree-type waterfall thing. But nobody else seems too bothered about it, do they?”

“But that’s what makes it imperative that we find out what it was, Pond!’ The Doctor chivvied enthusiastically, his face split by a huge grin. ‘This is the first clue we have, isn’t it? The first indication that something unusual is going on!”

“I don’t know about that, Doctor! Bar Thing seemed pretty unusual to me! And that reminds me… what about my water?”

“Oh, we’ll come back for our drinks later, Pond!’ the Time Lord assured her, seeming to have totally forgotten that he was the one who had wanted a ‘bit of a sit down’ in the first place! ‘I haven’t actually paid for them yet – and I wouldn’t want to upset our Ogron friend now, would I?” The Doctor immediately started off in the direction Amy had indicated, obviously assuming that she would follow without question.

She found herself glancing back repeatedly at the doorway, half expecting an enraged Bar Thing to come hurtling out after them, but reluctantly trailed after the suddenly reinvigorated Doctor. He didn’t appear to have any clear objective in mind, but Amy was beginning to get used to that. She caught up with him just as he rounded the central water feature, noticing as they passed that the children weren’t there anymore.

“Hey, Doctor, wait a minute!’ she complained, ‘Do we have a plan here? Or do you just intend to barge in and see what happens?”

“Of course I have a plan, Pond!’ he replied indignantly, adroitly hopping over a cleaner-bot hoovering moisture from the gleaming floor. ‘I always have a plan!”

“Well? Are you gonna clue me in then?”

“I’m just going to do what I always do, Pond!”

“What, like, just barge in and see what happens?”

“Precisely! Why? Do you have a better idea?” The Doctor favoured Amy with a look of genuine curiosity as he said this, so she thought furiously for a few more paces. When she realised that she had absolutely no idea what was going on anyway, Amy was forced to admit that she had no better suggestions.

“You know, Pond,’ the Doctor continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘I think you’re right about Bar Thing – he is very unusual – but not, I think, dangerous… I’ve never seen an Ogron grin before. I never realised that they had so many teeth…’ Amy frowned at him, but he was totally unfazed. (If he even noticed!) ‘He almost reminded me of someone, but I just can’t pin down the memory!”

“Is it important, Doctor? I mean, does it have any bearing on our current situation?” Amy enquired, hoping to nudge the Doctor into an explanation, but she couldn’t help sounding just a mite irritated.

The Doctor was intently peering at anything and everything, as he asked. “What do you think our situation is, exactly?” He looked back towards her expectantly.

“Well I don’t know, do I?’ Amy exploded, ‘I was hoping that you were going to tell me! I don’t even know what you’re looking for! What was that noise we heard?”

“Ah, sorry Pond, thoughtless of me.’ The Time Lord apologised, stopping to shade his eyes as he squinted upwards at the tiered levels of shops rising above them. ‘I can’t actually give you any definitive answers at the moment, but think about this. We both heard the same sound, right?

‘Or did we?

‘What did you hear? 

“A high pitched shriek, like something was in pain.” Amy responded immediately, almost surprising herself with such unhesitating conviction.

“Mmm… me too…

‘So, we did hear the same thing, but nobody else seems to have noticed it. What does that suggest to you, Pond?”

“That we’re both hearing things?” She replied, not entirely sure that the question was necessary.

“Precisely! Well spotted!’ The Doctor exclaimed, snapping his fingers as if she had just said something clever. (Amy was pretty sure that he had misinterpreted her comment somehow.) ‘Now…’ he continued, ‘what is it about us that is different from everybody else here?’ (Amy was about to mention that, with the overwhelming diversity of different species present; that was a pretty stupid question – but he didn’t even pause for breath.) ‘I’ll tell you, Pond! We are time travelers! Okay, I can’t absolutely rule out the possibility that there are others here, but it does seem rather unlikely.

‘Now, as a Time Lord, I have a natural sensitivity to time-related phenomena… And so do you – to a lesser extent – having traveled with me in the Tardis. I’m beginning to suspect that the scream we heard must have originated elsewhere. Possibly a completely different time continuum or, and this seems a bit more likely to me, either the past or future of this particular present!

‘Simples, eh?”

Amy considered her infuriating friend for a moment, then began to study their surroundings, replying casually, “yeah… dunno why I didn’t think of it myself, Doctor.’ Then she turned a puzzled frown on the Time Lord, and asked. “Hang on a minute! Let me see if I’ve got this straight. Did you just say that we’re looking for something that isn’t actually here?”

This time it was the Time Lords turn to look puzzled, as he mentally reviewed his previous statement. Then his expression brightened as he said, “Ah! Yes! I did! But – and here’s the clever bit – these kinds of events always leave some kind of residual trace! At least, I think they do… We may not be able to actually see anything out of the ordinary: but I’m fairly positive that I, at least, will be able to feel or sense… Something. Not sure what exactly… Some kind of temporal shadow, perhaps. Or maybe that horrible sensation of dislocation you experience in dreams, when you step off a kerb and discover that the ground isn’t where you expected it to be. Ever had one of those?

‘Never mind. Not important. The point is, just keep everything peeled. If anything catches your attention, we’ll go and take a look, and ‘vicky verky’! Alright?” He flashed her a grin and a thumbs-up, then resumed peering about intently, instantly fascinated by everything.

With a sigh, Amy attempted to do the same, still none the wiser.

Careful to keep behind the Doctor – so that he would encounter any obstacles first – Amy took the time to really look at the various shops that they were passing. Many of the goods on display in the windows were completely unrecognisable to her. However, there were also a few more familiar looking establishments. At least, if they were selling what she thought they were selling…  In one window a large group of robotic manikin’s were performing an exotic dance routine. As there were many different simulacra waving however many limbs they happened to be sporting: Amy was unsure if the store was advertising clothing available within – or the robot’s themselves!

The next display window along caught her eye, and she called out for the Doctor’s attention. It was, as far as she could tell, a toyshop. The massive window was full of little spaceships and ground vehicles, aircraft, and watercraft – all whizzing about merrily. “Hey, Doctor! Take a look at this!’ She yelled without thinking. When the Doctor arrived at her side like a six-foot tall question-mark, Amy pointed out one little ship in particular. ‘Look, you can get yourself a toy model of that mid-life crisis machine you liked so much!”

The Time Lord frowned in irritation, muttering, “Thought you’d found something important, Pond!’ Nevertheless, he peered thoughtfully at the display, paying particular attention to her discovery. It really did look like an exact replica of the ship that he had vaguely noticed – in passing – outside the Centre. The only difference, as far as he could see, was the even more shockingly ‘fast’ paint scheme! Then, right before his eyes, the little ship morphed into a totally different vehicle – but continued to fly about as if nothing had happened! A slow smirk of superiority slid across his features, and he turned it on Pond mercilessly. ‘This isn’t a toy shop at all! Don’t you recognise a Used Car Salesroom when you see one?”

Amy actually wanted to know how the model spaceship had changed shape, but her mouth was way ahead of her. “Are you trying to tell me that they’ve got actual spaceships and… ‘Ship’ ships… And planes, trains, and automobiles… In there?”

“Oh, I very much doubt it, Pond. They may have one or two small examples actually present inside, but the majority will be represented holographically, I expect. Just like these little chaps in the window!’

(Ah, that explains that, then… Amy thought, but said nothing as he continued.) ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if many of the shops offering larger goods store the actual items elsewhere, really. I mean, remember how far up we had to come to reach this level? What do you think all the structure below us could be used for?’ The Doctor paused to stroke his chin, jutting it out so that his lower lip pouted over the upper, then wagged a finger in admission. ‘I think we may be going about this the wrong way…’

“I mean,’ (he amended swiftly, before any protest could be registered.) ‘I think that I may be going about this wrong way. Everybody out here seems to be going about their business quite normally.’ He allowed his gaze to wander around the crowded concourse, picking at his pooched lip with thoughtful fingers. ‘Maybe we should start looking inside some of these shops – see if we notice anything unusual…”

Amy watched indignantly as he marched straight towards the doorway of her ‘toyshop’, passing through the disappearing entrance without a backwards glance. “Yeah, right!’ She muttered under her breath. ‘You just want to see if you can play with their toys, I reckon!”

But she followed him in, anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

Inside, the showroom was considerably larger than Amy had expected.

Just as the Doctor had predicted, it was apparent that most of the vehicles on show weren’t actually there… But what immediately caught her attention was that there were a lot of identically frightening looking little trolls hovering about. Each one was standing by a small podium topped with obscure control mechanisms. Some were enthusiastically showing hologramatic space cars/ships to interested customers. (Amy could only tell that they were holograms when a customer asked to see something else, and the display blipped into a different vehicle!) Those without customers were doing their best to entice browsers to their own particular domain, displaying random transports every now and then. 

The Doctor was, of course, immediately fascinated by everything on view, and seemed unable to decide just what to examine first. He looked like he might do himself an injury, Amy thought. (Swiveling his head about like that, and not looking where he was going – he might well do somebody else an injury!) Just as she caught up with him, a revolting little goblin popped up out of nowhere, smarming, “Welcome, Sir! Welcome, Madam!”

Amy nearly wet herself!

The obsequious creature was about five feet tall and – quite possibly – the same from shoulder to shoulder. It had a flattish, dome-shaped, grey-brown head, which appeared to blend seamlessly into its shoulders. Apparently they hadn’t heard of necks wherever it came from, so Amy was quite impressed that it had managed to squeeze its hugely muscled squatness into a tuxedo.

Much to her embarrassment, Amy found that she had grabbed onto the Doctor, managing no more explanation than a startled “Eep!” when the scary toad-thing had appeared. On consideration though, perhaps this was just as well, as he was apparently totally oblivious to its arrival. The Time Lord actually gave a little start when he turned and saw it. (This made Amy feel just a little better.)

“Good grief!’ The Doctor exclaimed in surprise. ‘You’re a Sontaran!”

“Indeed I am, Sir!’ Smugged the most frightening used-car salesman that Amy had ever encountered. ‘So kind of you to notice! Please allow me to introduce myself…”

“You’re a man of wealth, and taste?” Amy asked, feeling just a little bit disorientated.

“Eh?’ The goblin asked, obviously slightly confused by the question, but it rapidly recovered itself. ‘No, Madam, I am a Corporate Sales Executive… Perhaps you have me confused with one of my clone brothers.

‘My name is Slog.”

Although it was obvious that the Doctor was deeply astonished by this encounter, Amy just couldn’t help herself. “I don’t suppose you’re the Captain of a starship, are you?” she asked jokingly.

The Sontaran leaned away, almost as if offended. “Certainly not, Madam!’ he protested, then paused for a moment, his eyes losing focus. Suddenly looking deeply curious, he leaned back towards her conspiratorially, cautiously asking. ‘Excuse me, Madam, but you wouldn’t be thinking of my glorious progenitor, by any chance?”

“Your glorious what?” Amy bristled, rapidly resorting to anger as she totally lost track of the conversation.

It was at this point that the Doctor decided to intervene, placing a calming hand on her shoulder.

“Excuse my friend, Slog…”

“Salesman Slog, if you please, Sir.”

“Oh! Yes, of course! Anyway, Pond here has never met a Sontaran before. And – I must admit – I’ve never actually met a Sontaran ‘salesman’ before. Usually Sontaran’s are soldiers, in my experience.”

“Ah… Yes! I can understand the confusion, Sir.’ Slog gestured around at all the other squat little trolls. ‘My brothers and I have relinquished all military ties and made new lives for ourselves. Ever since the great hero, Strax, and his comely assistant, The Doctor…”

“Comely assistant!” The Doctor yelped, his surprise catastrophically overwhelming his diplomacy.

“Well, yes, Sir.’ Replied Slog, appearing somewhat taken aback by this reaction. (Although it was quite hard to tell from his piggy little eyes.) ‘Strax and The Doctor liberated our line from the horror of eternal conflict. Educated us… Showed us that there was another way to live.”

“I don’t remember that!” The Doctor protested in confusion.

Slog peered up suspiciously at this tall potential customer. “Excuse me for asking, Sir.’ He asked as deferentially as he could manage. ‘But why should you?”

“Ah!’ Explained the Doctor, evidently realising that he had no coherent answer to that. ‘Please excuse me, Salesman Slog… Er, I have made some – small – study of Sontaran’s in my time. I do recall hearing of one called Strax, but I’ve seen no mention of this particular… Er… Encounter. I’m afraid that I was a little surprised at hearing the Doctor – whom I’ve always believed to be quite a dignified chap – referred to as a ‘comely assistant’.”

“I see…’ replied the Sontaran slowly, obviously unconvinced. “But everyone knows that The Doctor is a female, Sir.

‘I believe that the description is intended to be complimentary.”

Amy, who had been quietly seething at being so abruptly sidelined, took great pleasure at the expression of discomfort that hijacked the Doctor’s face. One hand rising unconsciously to fiddle with his tie, he gulped as he cast a queasy look in her direction. She made sure to grin back maliciously, and folded her arms across her chest. ‘Get out of that one, Buster!’ Amy thought to herself, hoping that he would be able to read it in her eyes.

The Time Lord cleared his throat, returning his attention to Salesman Slog abruptly. “Ah, well, perhaps you shouldn’t tell me any more about that! Um… I believe that you were about to show us some of the marvelous vehicles that you have available?”

This was obviously the correct approach to take. Slog’s eyes gleamed in hopeful anticipation of a lucrative sale, and he totally forgot about everything else. “Were you looking for anything in particular, Sir? We have the widest selection of pre-owned transportation in this spiral arm of the Galaxy!”

“Ooh! That’s impressive!’ Enthused the Doctor, reaching out to nudge Pond with an elbow. ‘Isn’t that impressive!”

He grinned at her hopefully, making none-too-subtle sideways head jerking motions in the Sontaran’s direction. (And flashing his eyes! Evidently he wanted her to get involved again. Cheek!)

Amy, who was beginning to feel just a bit put out by now, rudely stuck her tongue out at him.

The Doctor turned back to face the salesman, trying to pretend that nothing had happened, but it was clear that he was unsuccessful. His ‘don’t you just love me?’ grin wavered uncertainly, possibly looking for somewhere to hide.

Amy turned her own attention back to the Sontaran as well, and nearly burst out laughing.

Slog had a slightly pained, almost constipated expression attempting to rearrange his ‘Mr. Potato Head’ features. In fact, he looked like someone who has just realized that they have accidentally stumbled into a lunatic convention. (And is trying to work out how to get away politely.) Amy read all this from the way he was looking between herself and the Doctor uncertainly. As the Sontaran had no neck, it looked like he was playing Pong with his eyeballs…

“Actually,’ Amy found herself saying, unsure where the impulse had come from. ‘Do you have anything from Earth? It’s somewhere that I’ve always been interested in.”

She was a little startled when Slog abruptly swiveled around to face her directly. (Suddenly, she could believe that this was a soldier in sheep’s clothing. Amy took an involuntary step back.)

“Earth, Madam?’ The Sontaran asked in a quiet, almost threatening, tone. Then (much to Amy’s relief) he instantly became a comical figure again. Slog looked like he was exaggerating when he cautiously looked around, as it entailed swiveling his entire upper body. Apparently satisfied that no one would overhear, the salesman leaned sideways towards the Doctor, beckoning him to come closer. Once the Time Lord had bent down to listen, Slog asked deferentially, from the edge of his mouth. ‘I did say this spiral arm of the galaxy, didn’t I, Sir?”

“Er, yes, I believe that you did, Salesman Slog.’ The Doctor extemporized through gritted teeth, mimicking the Sontaran as he frantically waved ‘back down!’ messages at Pond. The salesman hadn’t taken his suspicious eyes off her once, so didn’t notice this, fortunately. ‘But as my friend indicated, Earth is a bit of a hobby of ours. You never know where you might chance upon some interesting artifact! Doesn’t hurt to ask, does it?”

Much to Amy’s surprise, this actually seemed to mollify the Sontaran completely. “My apologies.’ He said, rather perfunctorily, ‘We only deal in functional transportation here. If you would be kind enough to follow me to my display area, perhaps I could show you some.” When Slog about-faced smartly, Amy shot a bewildered look at the Doctor, who could only reply with a mystified shrug. Then the Time Lord rushed to catch up with the salesgoblin and, unable to suppress a heartfelt sigh, Amy forced herself to join them.

“As you can see…’ Slog began to announce proudly when he reached his podium. (As he was speaking, he turned back to face them slowly, allowing him to gesture theatrically around the sales floor as he did so.) ‘We can call up anything in our inventory as a hologram here.’ The Doctor followed the sweeping arm, nodding in approval, but before he could comment, the Sontaran continued. ‘Naturally, we don’t anticipate our walk-in customers to require the larger space-going vessels; but we do have everything up to – and including – luxury cruise liners available…”

Slog paused in his delivery, looking up expectantly at the Doctor. The Time Lord was still gazing around the showroom, but now he had a slightly perplexed expression. Amy had to nudge him to get his attention, but he managed to face the Sontaran with aplomb – and a suitably large smile. “That sounds very tempting, Salesman Slog! But I think that a cruise liner might be a little too big, for just the two of us!”

Amy was amused to see a look of relief flit across Slog’s features. Apparently this was some kind of pre-prepared patter, and the Doctor had followed his cue correctly!

“Aha! Ha! Ha!’ Coughed the Sontaran, in a close approximation of laughter. “Of course, Sir, just my little joke!’ (Very little. Amy couldn’t help thinking, rather uncharitably.) ‘But seriously, please tell me just what kind of thing you are looking for. As you may have noticed from the window display, we can offer almost any form of transportation that you can imagine!” Slog stood there looking rather pleased with his delivery, until the Doctor said…

“You know, I suddenly feel like having a bit of a browse around, actually. See if anything catches my eye.”

“Are you sure, Sir?’ Slog asked, a slight hint of concern creeping into his voice. ‘I can call up anything that is displayed by my brother salesmen…”

“Well, you see…’ the Doctor began apologetically, ‘I’m not entirely sure what I want. Do you know what you want, Pond?”

“I want to go home.” Amy muttered despondently.

Seeing any (however remote) possibility of making a sale rapidly disappearing, the Sontaran slumped slightly. “Of course, Sir.’ He sighed raspily, then added belatedly, ‘And Madam.’

With an obvious effort at salesman-like diplomacy, Slog straightened, gestured expansively towards the numerous displays, and offered them both a frightening grimace. ‘Please… Feel free to browse as much as you wish.”

Amy, who unaccountably found herself feeling just a little bit sorry for him, decided to offer a bone. “Don’t worry, Salesman Slog. I’m sure that if we do see something that we like, we can come back to you for the full demonstration. Yes?”

The Doctor made no indication that he had even heard this, gazing around distractedly once more – but Slog perked up immediately. “An excellent suggestion, Madam! That being the case, may I suggest that you take as long as you need to fully explore our unmatched inventory!

‘If any particular style of vehicle does seem to be what you are looking for, just ask Salesman Slog to transmit the Ident Code to my station. Number 74! And I will…”

“Hold on a minute!’ Amy interrupted, suspecting that she had somehow misheard the Sontaran. ‘I thought that you were Salesman Slog?”

“I am, Madam!’ The salesgoblin seemed surprised that Amy even needed to ask. With a wave of a three-fingered hand, he added. ‘And so are they.”

“Doesn’t that get a bit confusing?” Amy asked, as she cautiously looked around the salesroom again.

“Not for us, Madam!’ Slog assured her – as if this was the most ridiculous suggestion that he had ever heard. Then he added conspiratorially, ‘But most other species are unable to tell us apart – it would be more confusing for them if we each had different names, don’t you think?”

Allowing herself to look more closely at the Sontaran’s scattered about – each wearing an identical face, as well as an identical tux – Amy was forced to agree. Deciding that a swift exit would be best at this point, she asked, “Number 74, right?” Slog bowed forward in an attempt at a nod, so Amy waved a cheery farewell, then hurried to catch up with the Doctor.

“These Sontaran’s, Doctor,’ she asked him quietly as she arrived at his side. ‘All the same, are they?”

Before replying, the Time Lord crooked an elbow her way invitingly, even though he wasn’t looking in her direction. “Could you do me a favour please, Pond.’ He requested politely from the corner of his mouth. ‘Take my arm and guide me around the showroom, would you?”

“Why?” Asked a surprised Amy, even as she took the proffered arm.

“Two reasons, really.’ The Doctor replied, still not looking at her. ’I think I’ve seen something, but I’m not entirely sure, so I’m trying to locate it again.

‘However, this means that not only am I not looking where I’m going, but I’m also not looking where I appear to be looking.”

“Oh.” Amy replied blankly, pulling her exasperating friend closer as they strolled further into the showroom.

“Also,’ he carried on, oblivious, ‘I don’t want to alert whatever I’m looking for…

‘That I’m looking for it, I mean.

'I’ll explain when I see it, okay?”

Amy figured that this was about as much sense as she was going to get out of him for the moment, so just agreed. By now she was guiding him past another Salesman Slog, who was enthusiastically extolling the virtues of some kind of submersible to a group of winged pineapples. (She assumed that it was a scaled down representation!) Still, the sight somehow spurred her to remind the Doctor. “Sontaran’s? All the same?”

He actually seemed to be quite irritated by her questioning, and answered without looking at her. “Now probably isn’t the best time to explain about Sontaran’s, Pond, but I can tell you this…’

Amy was alternating between studying the Doctor, and watching where they were going. She felt uncomfortably like a seeing-eye Amy, as it really looked as if he had suddenly gone blind.

‘Slog is unlike any Sontaran I have ever met… and I’ve met quite a few, so that’s saying something!

‘A laughing Sontaran? That can’t be right!

‘Also, he knew that you were a girl without being told…”

“Oy! What’s that supposed to mean?’ Amy demanded angrily, giving the Doctor’s arm a shake. ‘Why wouldn’t he know I’m a girl?”

“It’s nothing personal, Pond. Sontaran’s just don’t usually bother to differentiate between sexes. I suppose they had to learn how to do that, to avoid offending potential customers.

‘That’s weird as well. Sontaran’s don’t generally worry too much about offending anyone!

‘Could you head us over to the left a bit, please, Pond?”

Amy complied, deciding to give him the benefit of doubt on that one. Steering a course around a couple of gorgeous looking space yachts, she headed in the general direction requested.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, Amy felt herself yanked back by the arm, when the Doctor simply froze on the spot.

Before she could complain, the Time Lord was already explaining quietly. “I think that this might be a good vantage point, Pond. I can almost see something.”

They were quite close to a rather menacing looking hovercar-stroke-tank. It reminded Amy of the armoured personnel carriers that folks back home used for shopping trips, commuting to work, and dropping the kids off at school. She watched the salesgoblin handing some complicated looking headsets to a triumvirate of insectoid beings, only listening with half an ear as the Doctor edged her closer. “Yes! Becoming a little clearer from here. Two somethings. They don’t seem to be going anywhere just now, so hopefully they don’t realise that I’m onto them!”

When he had an unprotesting Pond positioned to his satisfaction, (She was too mystified to protest!) the Doctor disengaged himself. For the first time in an unnerving while, he actually looked at her and, Amy was relieved to note, saw her. “Thank you for being so patient, Pond.’ He said with sincerity, ‘I know that must have been a bit odd for you. But now I think I can show you what I was talking about –

‘Oh, Fishcakes!”

The Doctor’s unexpected outburst was inspired by the blank screen that had suddenly enveloped the Suburban Assault Vehicle display area. “What happened?” Amy asked in surprise.

Fuming, the Time Lord gave her a disgruntled shrug. “I should imagine that this particular Slog is taking his customers for a virtual test drive. Good news for him, perhaps. Rather bad timing for us, I’m afraid.

‘We will look a bit conspicuous, if we are seen to be taking too much interest in a privacy screen, don’t you think?”

Casting a furtive glance around for (as far as Amy could tell) imaginary observers, the Doctor snapped his fingers, then pointed towards the next display along. Another Slog was scrolling through a bewildering variety of sleek looking sky-bikes – at the request of a purple dinosaur…

“That one looks promising!’ He declared decisively. ‘Come along, Pond. Let’s go and look interested over there.”


	8. Chapter 8

Amy found it difficult to pay attention to the Doctor, as the creature was really quite beautiful. It wasn’t actually a dinosaur, of course, but that was the first thought that struck her when she saw it. (Maybe it was the tail…)

“Are you listening, Pond?” The Doctor asked, sounding just a mite tetchy. He had stopped them a short distance from his display of choice, and then begun murmuring quietly. Amy hadn’t caught a word of it over the ambient background sounds. (At least that infernal Musak wasn’t quite so loud in here!)

“Mmm?’ She asked vaguely, still entranced by the amber ‘tiger-stripe’ markings sported by the creature. (As they swept around from its back, they broke up into leopard spots, blending into its lilac front.) ‘Why are you speaking so quietly, Doctor? I’m trying to listen, really, but it would help if you spoke up a bit!”

The Time Lord was peering intently at the latest hologramatic offering, (or so Amy assumed,) when he replied. “I’ll explain later.’

Moving closer into Amy’s personal space, he raised his voice slightly. “For now, let’s just try to look like a couple of tourists, casually doing touristy type stuff.’ He paused to look at Amy enquiringly, so she nodded agreement and linked her arm through his again, the very picture of attentiveness. He gave her an uncertain smile, then began pretending to point out interesting details on the hang-glider (!) that had just appeared. ‘Now then, Pond, usually I try not to say don’t look now, because people invariably do. However, on this occasion, I do want you to not look now,”

Amy had been following his pointing finger, so that she could lean in closer to hear him. “Come again?” She asked his chin, which was the first thing she saw when she turned her head.

“Well, it’s quite simple. I’m going to point in the direction where I want you to look, but you need to not look where I’m pointing. Instead, try to see out of the corner of your eye… That will probably make more sense if we just do it. Ready?’

He moved his finger, as if just noticing another display a little further along. Amy dutifully gazed along his arm, trying to look as if he had just spotted something incredibly interesting. While she nodded along to an imaginary commentary, the Doctor was actually saying… ‘So, if you direct your attention to the small-vehicle transmat at the back of the showroom… but don’t actually concentrate on it.

‘Just let your eyes go slightly out of focus, if you can…”

“Yup. With you so far, think I’ve got it.” Amy lied. (It was considerably more difficult than he made it sound!)

“Okay! Now then, without moving your head, or your eyes, try looking just to your left. Peripheral vision, Pond, seeing out of the corner of the eye. Don’t try to force it. They haven’t moved for some time, so let it just creep up on you.”

Amy actually found it quite unnerving to deliberately try not to look to her left, and she wasn’t at all sure that she was doing it (not doing it?) correctly. She certainly wasn’t seeing anything! “What exactly am I looking for, Doctor?” She complained eventually.

“You’ll know it when you see it, Pond. Trust me.”

It was deeply frustrating. Amy wasn’t just having difficulty ‘seeing’ her peripheral vision, but the sales patter of the salesgoblin kept threatening to distract her. (Particularly when his customer roared so enthusiastically at each new display!) She was also uncomfortably aware of the Doctor’s patient presence. (She could almost feel him willing her to see something.) She had as good as decided to give up and admit defeat, when a faint blurriness registered on her consciousness. At first she thought that there was something wrong with her eyes, but then it moved! Desperately fighting not to look directly at the presence, Amy relaxed and tried to process what she thought she was seeing.

More than anything else, it reminded her of a heat haze, rising like a desert mirage to undulate and flicker at the edge of awareness. As she became more accustomed to observing in this peculiar fashion, Amy realised that there were, as the Time Lord had said, two somethings. “Doctor!” She hissed in alarm.

“It’s alright, Pond, I see it as well. Our elusive friends are on the move again.’ He murmured quietly. ‘Just turn slowly with me, and keep them on the edge of your vision…”

“Why?’ Amy interrupted, as a stray thought took hold. ‘I mean, why are we being so cautious? If we can’t see them, what makes you think that they can see us?”

“Ah…’ The Doctor replied, seeming somewhat taken aback by the question. Then he rallied with an enthusiastic whisper, ’Aha! Yes! Yes, indeed! I was wondering when you would notice that, Pond!”

“And?”

“Um, well… I didn’t think of it, actually.’ He reluctantly admitted, still guiding Amy as he slowly turned. “But really, this is more for the benefit of the other patrons. Hopefully, we won’t stand out too much, if we look like we’re looking at things that are actually here…

‘They might think that we’re a bit strange, otherwise.”

Amy was fairly sure that, if anyone was paying any attention to the two of them, they would have already come to that conclusion. She chose not to comment though, as the elusive blurs seemed to develop more definable shapes as they moved. (Or perhaps she was getting the hang of this ‘not looking’ lark!) Whatever the cause, Amy could now make out two – almost humanoid – blobby blurs. They were walking slowly on two blobby legs, swinging two blobby arms casually from their blobby torsos. They didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. It was still difficult not to look directly at them to see more clearly, but Amy was pretty sure that they would disappear again if she did so. That’s when she realised that she wasn’t really seeing them at all. It was more like seeing ghostly distortions in the background that they passed, like some of the primitive special effects that she had seen in old movies from the 80’s.

“Doctor.’ She enquired in an undertone. ‘Are you seeing two invisible Mister Blobby’s?”

“Eh?’ (Amy couldn’t see his reaction, but he sounded pretty surprised, before turning thoughtful.)

‘Hmm… Yes, I suppose that’s as good a description as any!” (Aha! Got him! Now it’s ‘Pond’ who has the answers, me-laddy-o…)

“Well, I was wondering… Could they be rather podgy people in some sort of camouflage suits? I mean, maybe it’s a simple…”

Matching her low tones, the Doctor interrupted, rather apologetically. “No, Pond. I can see where you’re going with this, but they aren’t actually here in this timeframe…”

“How do you know?”

“I saw them walk through quite a few customers, when I first noticed them.”

“Oh.” This rather took the wind out of Amy’s sails. She couldn’t fault the Doctor’s reasoning, let alone think of an immediate reply.

“Excuse me, Madam? Do you and Sir require some assistance?” The unctuous voice emanated from somewhere around Amy’s chest level. If she hadn’t been holding onto the Doctor already, she probably would have climbed up on top of his head.

“You deal with this, Pond.’ The Time Lord hissed from the corner of his mouth, ‘I don’t want to lose our quarry.”

Amy turned her attention to the Sontaran salesgoblin standing before her. She hadn’t realised just how intently she had been concentrating, and the interruption had shocked her deeply. As she attempted to slow her racing heart, Amy tried to smile. “Oh, you startled me!” She managed to gasp.

This Slog looked exactly the same as all the others, of course, but Amy hadn’t noticed such an expression of sincere concern on the face of the first one they had met. His eyes widened at her comment, and he clasped his three-fingered hands before his chest abjectly. “I’m most terribly sorry, Madam, I assure that that was not my intention!’ He half turned to tilt a shoulder towards his sales space. ‘I merely wanted to see if the two of you were quite well…’ He glanced pointedly at the Doctor, then continued, ‘and inform you that I am about to shut down my display temporarily.

‘Sir has made a selection, and I must escort him to the transmat bay…

‘So that he can examine the actual vehicle…

‘He is quite keen…”

Amy looked at the iridescent not-quite dinosaur, noting that its tail was twitching back and forth in a manner that she found rather unsettling. Thankfully, the Doctor chose that moment to announce, “Time for a stroll, I think, Pond.”

With a smile and a wave to the relieved Sontaran, she resumed her role as seeing-eye Amy, even though it was more for the benefit of any observers than the Time Lord himself. As they left the area, she could hear Salesman Slog smarming up to his customer. “Not to worry, Sir! We get a lot of curiosity seekers here – we have the widest selection of pre-owned transportation in this spiral arm of the Galaxy! Now, if you would just accompany me to the transmat bay, I will call up the actual vehicle so that you can try it on for size! I must say, Sir has made a most excellent choice…”

The practiced patter receded behind them, as Amy and the Doctor retraced their steps. That was how it seemed to Amy anyway, because they were now approaching a familiar looking privacy screen. “What are they doing, Doctor?” She asked as casually as she could, no longer able to see the blobs herself.

“Not much, actually,’ the Time Lord replied distractedly. (He almost sounded disappointed!) ‘They don’t seem to be up to anything nefarious, or even urgent…”

Just then, the privacy screen dropped, and Amy could once more see the Family Main Battle Tank hologram. As the Doctor didn’t seem to be in any hurry himself, she brought him to a halt with a jerk of her arm. “Wait there a moment, Doctor.’ She instructed him, ‘I’m just going to get us another excuse to hang around.” He waved his arm languidly in dismissal when she released it, so she walked closer to the display area.

“Excuse me, Salesman Slog!” She called to the Sontaran that was in charge, and pasted on her friendliest smile.

The little (well… short,) troll span about in that startling Sontaran fashion, then appeared to rear back in alarm without actually moving. It was all in the expression, which Amy realized (with no little concern,) that she could almost read. “Excuse me, Sir! How may I be of assistance?’ Slog shouted in surprise, then (somehow) managed to do a double-take using only his eyes. Appearing slightly embarrassed, he leant forward again, causing him to peer up at Amy from under his eyebrowless eyebrows. “I do apologise, Madam! I wasn’t paying attention. In case you hadn’t noticed, I am actually serving some other customers at this present time.”

Raising her hands, Amy hurried to assure him. “Not to worry, I won’t keep you, I promise!

‘It’s just that I like the look of that hovercar, and Salesman Slog told me that he could access anything on display in the showroom.” She waved at the insect people clustered around the hologramatic vehicle, and they clacked their mandibles in return, excitedly pointing multiple limbs at their new purchase.

“Ah, yes, of course Madam. I will be only too happy to assist!’ The Sontaran exclaimed effusively, then paused to lean towards Amy tentatively. “Madam does realise that I am in the middle of finalising the sale of this particular vehicle?”

“Yup!”

“Splendid! Splendid! Well, if Madam would be so kind as to give me his Station Number, I shall transmit the details to Salesman Slog. I am sure that he will be able to locate something similar, we have the widest selection…”

“Yes, I know all that!’ Amy interjected as politely as she could. ‘Just send everything to Station 74, please. I don’t want to keep you from your customers.”

“Madam is too kind.’ The Sontaran oozed, then raised a hand in the air as he turned his back on her. “I shall expedite the transmission this very moment, Madam! Salesman Slog will have everything prepared for you by the time you rejoin him, I am sure!”

“What was all that about?” Asked the Doctor, as Amy linked arms with him once more.

“I’ll explain later.” She replied, with a smile in her voice. It was surprisingly enjoyable to say that to him for once!


	9. Chapter 9

Salesman Slog wasn’t really expecting to hear any more from the strange customers that had arrived earlier. 

Even though the hideously unattractive boy with the red stuff sprouting from his head had tried to be kind, Slog had already dismissed them from his consideration. He did, rather grudgingly, admit that it wasn’t the boy’s fault that he wasn’t a Sontaran, but it was so difficult to tell these aliens apart. (It had been a risk to assume that the other one was a male, but Slog had come to learn that less fortunate species tended to ‘pair up’ according to gender. A completely unnecessary complication, as far as he was concerned.)

He ruminated thoughtfully, for a few moments, on the vicissitudes of fate that had led to the establishment of the great Sontaran Sales Force: with its homogenised showrooms now spread far and wide. Naturally, it had not been easy to establish the chain, but nothing worthwhile ever was. Still, no matter how far he travelled – from one showroom to another – he would never be able to understand this gender differentiation business. 

That troubled him sometimes. 

The variety and location of unnecessary body-parts seemed an inefficient way to judge a beings individual worth or potential. 

Sontaran’s were all male purely through habit and tradition: the assumption being that one needed to be male to be an effective soldier. Now that he and his brothers had eschewed violence to pursue profit, Slog wasn’t entirely sure that the distinction made any sense. Being of superior design, a Sontaran did not need extraneous sexual organs. 

He also absorbed energy directly through his probic vent, thus eliminating the requirement for a means of… elimination. 

Furthermore, a Sontaran ingested water only rarely, such was the efficiency of his metabolic system. All water was utilized, no waste products needed to be expelled, so an organ for doing so was not necessary.

Slog very rarely shared these thoughts with anyone else, particularly not aliens. Aliens had such strange ideas. 

Why would a Sontaran want to write his name in the snow?

What was snow?

He had been idly flicking through a few of the more obscure items of stock whilst he thought, so was slightly startled when his console beeped at him. Tapping the accept button, Slog rapidly read through the details, then initiated an inventory search. Maybe he had been too hasty in giving up on that odd couple! As the best matches began cueing up for easy retrieval, the Sontaran slowly began to swivel around, hoping to catch sight of the interested parties.

They were very easy to locate, even with the large number of other patrons ambling about. The redheaded boy – the female – appeared to be guiding the male, who was gazing blankly at nothing. A sudden cold chill gripped Slog, and he rapidly ran through liability clauses and insurance premiums in his head. Was it possible that this species of alien could be damaged merely by looking at a hologram? It didn’t seem very likely, but one could never be sure with inferior species. (Most of them were so pitifully frail!) As the pair drew closer to his podium, the female was muttering something that Slog couldn’t quite hear. He bared his teeth at them in ritual greeting, preparing his most exuberant of welcomes, when the male leaned his head closer to the female, saying. “Just make sure that you don’t call me…”

Slog didn’t actually catch the entire sentence, as the male’s voice had become progressively quieter as he spoke, but he spread his arms wide as they approached nonetheless. “Oh, welcome back, Madam! Welcome back, Sir! I can’t tell you how gratified I am that you have found something to your approval! I have all the details here, and can assure you that we have a splendid selection of that particular vehicle type in stock!

'Er… Although… 

‘It would help if you came around to stand on this side of the podium, with me.

‘Otherwise, you will be inside the holograms, you see… Aha! Ha! Ha!”

“Could you ask him not to do that, Pond?’ The male murmured to his guide, evidently unaware of the superiority of Sontaran hearing. ‘It sets my teeth on edge.”

“Be quiet, you.’ She (Slog was pretty sure that this was the correct pronoun for a female) scolded mildly, as they complied with his suggestion. ‘Hello again, Salesman Slog!” she added cheerfully when they had arrived beside him.

“Yes, likewise.” Concurred the male absently, not looking remotely interested. In fact, not even looking in Slog’s direction! 

The slightly confused Sontaran was sorely tempted to swivel about to see what his customer was directing those sightless seeming eyes towards. However, he fought back the urge, instead addressing the female as compassionately as he could. “Excuse me, Madam, but is Sir quite alright? Does he require medical assistance, by any chance?”

Madam made that horrible sound that Slog had so much difficulty emulating, and clapped Sir on the shoulder. (The Sontaran could actually empathise with the male’s earlier comment, as he gritted his own teeth against the unpleasant noise!) “No, don’t worry about him, he gets like this sometimes! I’m afraid he just gets overexcited now and then, and sort of flips out. You should see what he’s like in a sweet shop! I daren’t let him near the sherbet lemons!”

“Don’t push it, Pond” The male hissed from the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, I see,’ Slog ventured cautiously, not seeing at all. (What was a sweet? What kind of creature was a Sherbet Lemon?) He flicked his eyes between the two, wondering whether he would be better off calling a medic, or Centre Security. He decided that the possibility of a sale was not to be thrown away so lightly, and began to address the female. (At least she was looking at him!) ‘Now then, Madam…‘

The redheaded boy grimaced and made a peculiar gesture with her free hand, saying. “Oh please, Salesman Slog, call me Amy. Madam makes me sound so old!”

Slog peered blankly at nothing for a moment, as he tried that sentence out again in his head – but it still didn’t work. 

Wary of causing offense, he was forced to ask for clarification. “I’m terribly sorry, Madam, I believe that I must have misunderstood you. 

‘You want me to call you a me?”

The boy looked a little confused at this, and the other customer emitted a disturbing, choking, snorting sound. Slog began to reconsider calling for a medic, but before he could act on the unprofitable impulse, Me said. “Er… never mind! Just show us what you have on offer, please!”

That was an excellent idea, Slog decided, and turned to attend to his console feeling much more comfortable. As he called up the first file, the salesman in him began his pitch. “Aha, I see that you are interested in one of our more popular models! A very reliable and sturdy vehicle type.’ He swiveled his upper torso just enough to address the boy directly. ‘Perhaps if you could step a little closer, Madam, so that I don’t have my back to you?’ He was pleased that she was quite happy to comply, bringing the inattentive male with her. ‘My thanks, Sir and Madam. I would not wish to appear rude. Now then, as you can see, this particular vehicle has just been purchased, but I have put it on display as a starting point. If you could tell my why this form of transport caught your eye, I can refine my search. 

‘I hope to present you with the best possible choices and alternatives!”

Slog gazed encouragingly towards his customers, baring his teeth politely. He wasn’t particularly surprised when the boy decided to do the talking. “Actually, Salesman Slog, we just thought it looked nice! I mean, obviously there are other considerations, but the shape, and the colour, and the way it just floats there… Um… Perhaps you could just show us a few more that look similar?”

“Of course, Madam, I would be delighted to!’ The Sontaran rushed to confirm, privately wondering if the lad was being deliberately obtuse. ‘But perhaps if you could tell me how you plan to use your transport, then I could tailor the selections more closely to your needs?”

This seemed to confuse Madam slightly. “Er… Well… We were just planning to…

‘Sort of… 

‘Drive around in it… 

‘And stuff. 

‘Why? What else can they do?” She asked, looking with renewed interest at the hologramatic vehicle.

“I think that Salesman Slog is asking, Pond…’ Came an unexpected comment from Sir, ‘about what kind of terrain we might expect to encounter.’ He still seemed to be gazing off into nowhere, so the Sontaran only realised that he was being addressed personally when his name was repeated. “Salesman Slog, my friend has only been travelling with me for a short time, but I expect to take her to all manner of exotic places…’

“Ah, that is most generous of you, Sir!” Slog politely squeezed into the pause. 

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ Sir agreed, seemingly pleased by the observation. (Sales note: Flattery may prove effective on this customer.)

‘Anyway, perhaps it would help if I told you we will probably be doing quite a bit of off-road – or at least, off the beaten track – travelling. Having said that, however, we wouldn’t want to look too out-of-place in more civilised environs. 

‘Is that any more useful?”

“Indeed it is, Sir!’ Slog agreed happily, restraining the urge to rub his hands together. ‘I see now why you selected this particular kind of transport, a most appropriate choice! You have a discerning eye, Sir!”

“Hey!’ Complained the… the female. ‘I’m the one that chose it!”

“Yes, indeed you did. Madam!’ The Sontaran agreed automatically, but couldn’t help adding, ‘Because you liked the colour…’ 

Immediately recognising that this was not the most encouraging comment he could have made, Slog rushed on more enthusiastically. ‘And I shall do my best to find something in as close a shade as possible! More than that, I confidently predict that we can meet your required specifications in all other respects! If you will direct your attention to the display area?’ He rapidly played stubby fingers over a ball-shaped device, at the same time tapping areas on the podium’s control surface with his other hand. As his first selection appeared, Slog began to explain. ‘Naturally, all of these choices utilize limited anti-grav technology. And by limited, I mean that you will not accidentally escape the planetary gravity well, of course!” (He debated whether to attempt a self-deprecating laugh, but decided against it.)

“Perhaps you could just run through a few for us,’ the female suggested in her irritatingly high-pitched voice. ‘And maybe give us a summary of the details.”

“Indeed, Madam. That was precisely my intention!’ Slog replied as he fussed with his podium. ‘I have full schematics, specifications, and service history available for each transport, of course… but for the moment I shall merely point out the most interesting details. Feel free to stop me at any time, if a particular model jumps out at you!” This was the part of his chosen career that the Sontaran liked most. He fell easily into the happy routine of describing each vehicle’s capabilities, basking in the occasional murmur of appreciation from Madam. 

He had almost forgotten the silent presence of the male, until he overheard his comment. “They’re still not going anywhere, Pond. Don’t seem to be doing very much of anything, actually!”

What a curious thing to say! The Sontaran edged slowly around until he could face the strange pair. “But of course they aren’t, Sir…’ he ventured cautiously. ‘These are merely demonstration holograms! I thought that was understood! I mean, the way I can change them so easily should have given you a clue!” This was dangerously close to bad salesmanship, but Slog was beginning to feel just a little bit irritated. He was doing his very best to help them locate their perfect transport! The least they could do was pay attention!

At least Madam had the decency to apologise. “I’m sorry, Salesman Slog, my friend was talking to me. About something else entirely! I’m sure that he is just as interested as I am.” She was tugging on Sir’s arm as she said this, and he began nodding vigorously. (This looked most peculiar, as his eyes remained stationary.)

“Oh, most definitely, Salesman Slog.’ Sir confirmed emphatically. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise! I particularly like the fact that these vehicles have the capability to travel over water, as well. However, I wonder if you could show us something a little more, er… Robust? Something along the lines of a Sontaran Assault Skimmer, perhaps? 

‘Demilitarised, naturally!”

Suddenly feeling a new respect for this self-professed scholar of Sontaran history, Slog tilted forwards in an approximation of a nod. “I see! Sir is a man of learning, as well as impeccable taste! However, we do not deal in military technology at all, not any more. I may possibly be able to locate a museum grade example of such a craft, but the price tag will not be small. Even with all weapons systems and technology removed, Assault Skimmers are formidable vehicles, as you are no doubt aware.”

The boy – Stang it! – the female had observed this exchange with a growing expression of puzzlement. “Hold on a minute, Do…‘ She began to say, then threw a guilty glance towards Slog before starting again. ‘Don’t you think you are getting a bit too into this? I mean, we’re not really planning to… Um, that is, can you afford something like that?” This was a most alarming question, one that the Sontaran would have preferred left unasked for the time-being. (At the very least, until he had discovered the price himself!)

“I would still like to see one if possible, Pond. If only to confirm that these Sontaran’s have truly abandoned warfare.

‘Er, no offence, Salesman Slog.”

“None taken, Sir.’ He replied in polite disappointment, visions of the sale of the century fading from his eyes. Then Slog brightened, and offered enthusiastically, ‘as it happens, I would be most interested to see such a vehicle myself, Sir! If we do have such an item in stock anywhere, I shall discover it! Perhaps we could then locate a more recent model that more closely approximates the specifications!’ (He was encouraged to see Sir nodding thoughtfully.) ‘I shall just consult with one of my associates, if Sir and Madam would excuse me momentarily.” 

He was just beginning to turn away, when his customer exclaimed. “Wait a minute!’ Slog rapidly turned back, but realised that Sir was again talking to his companion. He had disengaged himself from her arm, and now rested one hand on her shoulder. ‘They are moving now!”

Slightly alarmed, the Sontaran swiveled to study the showroom, half expecting to see hologramatic transports running amok. As nothing had changed, he returned his attention to the mad alien, leaning back so he could study its face. The female was also darting looks about in all directions, clearly as confused as Slog was. “What? Where? Can we follow them?” She cried.

“They are heading for the exit, Pond. They seem to be in a hurry all of a sudden!” 

“But I thought that you weren’t looking over by that space yacht!” 

“I wasn’t! I mean, I was! Look, I just told you, they moved, and now they are leaving.”

Completely mystified by this incomprehensible exchange, Slog was jerking his upper torso around manically, attempting see what they were talking about. He looked like a toy figure with a press-button action feature. As far as he could tell, they were suffering from some kind of shared hallucination! He almost reared back when the female began dragging the male towards the exit, yelling. ‘Come on then! Let’s get after them!”

Almost as soon as they had begun moving, the male brought them to a halt. “It’s too late, Pond. They just changed direction.’ He actually turned to look at something for the first time – that Slog could recall – since returning to the Sontaran’s station. ‘They just walked through that wall…”

Slog carefully turned to examine the wall that Sir had indicated.

Beyond his fellow salesmen, the browsing customers, and a couple of empty display areas – there was absolutely nothing of interest. Nothing at all. 

Still moving very slowly, as if suspecting that he was standing in the middle of a minefield, the Sontaran lurched jerkily about to face his customers again. They weren’t there, but he soon spotted them trying to get out through the exit. This was evidently proving difficult, because there was another party of customers attempting to enter at the same time. 

Slog ruminated thoughtfully for a few moments, unsure whether he felt guilty for not calling for medical assistance earlier, or disappointed at not having made a sale. 

Eventually, he realised that he just felt extremely pleased that these particular aliens weren’t his problem anymore.

Deciding that he was long overdue for a refreshing energy burn, the slightly rattled Sontaran punched a pad on his podium and announced. “Salesman Slog, Station 74. Logging off for my daily five minute break.”


	10. Chapter 10

“There’s no point in rushing, Pond.’ The Doctor sighed, as he carefully extricated her from the mash of bodies in the doorway. ‘I’m afraid that we shall have to try a different approach to our search.”

Amy was far too busy exchanging embarrassed apologies to ask what he meant.

It had been a bit of a surprise to find herself wedged inside a group of slender, frond-like, plant-people! It had become particularly uncomfortable when the rest of the party outside had bumped into this unexpected obstacle, and the Doctor walked into her back. Thankfully that was sorted out very quickly, but as she was pulled from their path, the plants all began talking at the same time as she did.

“Most rooted apologies, friendly fleshy… Ouchies!”

“Not to use that word! Not politeness!”

“We wilt with embarrassment at this unfortunateness, fellow visitor! Accepting our contrition, please?

“No!’ Amy had protested, sure that she was to blame for the confusion. ‘No, you have nothing to apologise for!’

She tried again. ‘It was entirely my fault. I… Er… Wasn’t looking where I was going…” (She could just imagine the Doctor clapping his hand to his forehead beside her – or maybe she saw it out of the corner of her eye…)

Amy stepped aside to allow the small forest to pass, but before she could politely invite them inside, a vexed little voice demanded from the undergrowth.

“Woss ‘app’nin’? Can’t see nuffink!”

There was a moment of giddy stillness, where-in the plant people appeared to be wavering in a non-existent breeze. Then a smaller frond pushed forward, holding out a miniature ‘bonsai’ version to one of the adults. Amy couldn’t see the parent’s eyes (if it even had any,) but felt an understanding that transcended species as it cradled the youngster. “Hush now, podling… Patience, little one. We have just met a new friend, and the grown-ups are talking.”

“Not fair!’ Protested the child, but then it must have suddenly noticed Amy somehow. ‘Ooh! Pretty colour!’ It squealed, reaching a tendril towards her hair. Amy felt an irresistible grin split her face, and tickled the end of the appendage with a cautious finger, then guiltily looked toward the parent for belated permission. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but Amy was convinced that she had just met with the plant-creatures approval. They all rattled and sighed like an autumn woodland, and each bent towards her as they filed into the showroom.

“Sorrowing still, for our embarrassing haste.’ Said the last one through. ‘But happiness flows at this meeting. May starlight always feed you, and may you never find yourself far from water. We part in friendship.”

Feeling almost close to tears for some unaccountable reason, Amy actually jumped when the Doctor tapped her on the shoulder. She had totally forgotten he was there! “You’re really rather good at coping with all these different species, Pond. I’m most impressed!” He murmured encouragingly and, Amy could tell from the respect in his eyes, honestly. This was a most unexpected, yet immeasurably welcome compliment! So Amy – as usual – tried to downplay it.

“It’s not all that difficult, Doctor.’ She responded casually, ‘I just try to remember that they are just the same as I am really, where it matters – no matter how different they look.”

The Doctor regarded her intently for a long moment, then cupped her face gently, compassion in his eyes. “You really have no idea how special that makes you, do you?’

Amy actually had ‘no idea’ how to respond to this statement, so it was something of a relief when he broke the moment. ‘Now then, I suggest that we exit the salesroom before Slog – Oh! He appears to have left! – Well, anyway, we need to find somewhere to think. I must consider what we have discovered here, and come up with a new… Something or other.”

As they departed the showroom, Amy cast a glance back, but could no longer see the plant-people. She felt oddly disappointed, but shook it off to ask, “Aren’t we just going to go into the next shop along – look for our blobby friends?”

“No. No, I don’t think that would do any good.’ Before she could ask him why, the Doctor scooted her over to the central fountain again, skillfully wending through the hordes of exotic shoppers. ‘Let’s just sit here for a moment, out of everyone’s way.’ He said, as he patted the edge of the parapet and sat down, inviting her to join him. ‘I don’t think that just charging in there would achieve very much. You know how long it took us to spot them in the first place. Also, as they aren’t actually here now, it’s not like we have to follow them in real time, is it?”

Deciding to let that one pass, Amy asked (with forced cheekiness,) “So what’s the plan, Batman?’ as she perched beside him – a little surprised that they appeared to be abandoning the chase. The Doctor ignored her for a moment, retrieving his sonic screwdriver from his jacket. ‘Hey!’ She yelped in alarm, ‘You’re not going to start singing again, are you?”

“Relax, Pond,’ he replied, although he didn’t actually appear to be paying the slightest attention to her. ‘I’m just going to reset the Sonic, in light of new information. Or supposition. Or guesswork. Whatever.”

His fingers flickered and raced across the complicated device so fast that Amy only saw a blur. “But what…’ (Cough.) ‘But what can you do with your sonic screwdriver? …To help us find the Blobby’s, I mean.” Amy was thankful that the Doctor was so intent on manipulating his gadget’s settings. (She could feel herself blushing, but wasn’t entirely sure why.)

“Think about it, Pond.’ He replied, squinting intently at the Sonic, until his face suddenly lit with a triumphant grin. ‘Yes!’ He exclaimed ecstatically. ‘Totally deleted that bad boy! Won’t be doing that again anytime soon!’ Then his face scrunched up in confusion, and he shot an accusing look in Amy’s direction. “What was I trying to do again?” He asked myopically.

Amy squirmed on the parapet next to him, slightly concerned that he might be cracking up again. “Invisible blobs?” She asked hopefully, as that seemed like the most relevant subject to her at the moment.

“Ah, yes!’ The Doctor exclaimed, attacking the Sonic once more with gusto, ‘That’s what I told you! You really should pay more attention!’ (Amy, unsure who he was actually talking to, resisted the urge to push him into the pool behind them.) ‘Now that we have a slightly better idea of what we are dealing with…”

“We do?” Amy interrupted, once again getting the distinct impression that she had skipped a page or two. (Or that the Doctor was reading from a different book entirely.)

“Yes, Pond, we do. Or, at least, I do. Please stop interrupting me!” He grumped, then totally ignored her as her concentrated on his screwdriver.

Amy took the opportunity to glance around, idly noting the variety of happy – or, at least occupied – people sauntering past: as she slowly counted down from ten. For the first time she noticed quite a few beings wearing protective gear – space suits, practically – and almost automatically started to ask the Doctor why anyone would need a spacesuit indoors. However, after a moment’s consideration, Amy realised that she could work out the answer herself. Obviously, not all life-forms could breathe the same air that she was used to. Actually, she mused, it was quite astonishing just how many different beings could! (The Doctor would probably say something boring about the oxygen/nitrogen mix, which Amy was evolved for, being the most common atmosphere to support life. But she still thought it was pretty cool.)

That reminded her of the water-chutes that she had noticed earlier.

Okay, so they would be dead easy to come down… but how would you get up them? And how would an aquatic species get around the shopping centre anyway? Spotting one further along the arcade, Amy traced its path until she located some occupant’s.  (It was almost like a water chute at an amusement park, winding about all over the place!) A group of dolphin-like people were zooming around gleefully. When they emerged at the bottom – into some kind of reception pool – Amy noticed that they had manipulative digits on the ends of their flippers. Although she couldn’t make out exactly what they were doing, the pod soon rose into the air, a thin shimmering coating of water clinging to their flanks. It was almost a surprise when they blew a thin spray out of the top of their heads, but a horde of cleaner-bots leapt into action, as if they had been waiting for it!

Amy felt quite chuffed with herself, having proved that she could still work out stuff on her own – if she just took the time to actually think about a question before asking it. The problem with being with the Doctor was… Well, it was just too easy to expect him to do all the thinking. Feeling much calmer now, she nudged the furiously concentrating Time Lord. “Okay, Doctor, I think I’ve given you long enough. It’s time you let me in on the secret... 

'If you know what’s good for you…”

“Hmm?” He hmm’ed, distractedly.

“Well,’ she announced with determination. ‘As I recall, you keep saying that you are going to explain later.

‘Now is later.

‘So…

'Explain!”

He glanced towards her cautiously, puffing away that perpetually intrusive forelock again, and asked, “do I really have to?’ (He sounded like a little boy trying to avoid extra tuition!) ‘I hate explaining, Pond! Whenever I explain something, nobody understands. Then I have to explain the explanation, and nobody is any the wiser…

‘Least of all me!”

“Oh no, Doctor!’ Amy asserted herself emphatically, placing a hand over his own on the Sonic. ‘You’re not wriggling out of it that easily! I can put some of my questions on hold, if I must: but I’m not going to just follow you blindly anymore. Spill!”

The Doctor sighed, looking down at the device in his hand, then suddenly began nodding to himself. “Actually, Pond, maybe that’s not such a bad idea!’ Wagging the screwdriver at her authoritatively, he lifted his legs up suddenly and span around on his rump. He ended up sitting cross-legged on the parapet, facing Amy as he pocketed the screwdriver absently. ‘I could use some time to think things through myself, to be honest. Perhaps if I just run through the possibilities… Or rather, my initial speculations, you can help me look at them for flaws or alternatives.”

Amy, feeling a little jumpy after the Doctor’s unexpected athletics display, took her time to (slowly) arrange her own legs, until she was facing him on the parapet. “Yes, Doctor.’ She agreed, once she had mirrored his posture, ‘I suppose we could do that. But if we aren’t in any particular hurry any more, then there’s something else that I want to know first.”

“Oh.’ The Time Lord replied unenthusiastically, but then rallied with a clap of his hands. “Ah! If it’s about that business of talking quietly, well, that’s really quite simple...’

“No, Doctor, it’s not that.’ Amy stopped him in mid-flow, ‘It was something that Slog said… The first one…”

This time it was the Doctor’s turn to interrupt, although Amy suspected that he was just attempting to divert her. “Oh, I see! All that business about being in the wrong spiral arm of the Galaxy! Yes, I found that rather puzzling myself! Of course, we don’t exactly have much information to go on here, but…”

Amy leaned forward to pat one of his knees gently, making sure to keep eye contact so that he wouldn’t look away. “No, Doctor. You know exactly what I’m asking about.

‘What was all that business about Slog’s people being helped by ‘The Doctor’ long ago? Why was the Doctor he spoke of a woman? Is Slog’s past your future?”

Rubbing a hand over his jutting chin as if checking for stubble, the Doctor murmured sadly, “I don’t really see how it can be…”

Amy protested. “But you said that you recognised the name of the Sontaran he mentioned… what was it? Styx?”

“Strax.’ The Doctor replied quietly. “Yes. That name does ring a bell. Which is very curious…’ He took hold of one of Amy’s hands in both of his, shaking it for emphasis. ‘I’m pretty sure that Strax is dead – and I’m positive that I wasn’t female when I knew him – I would have noticed! It’s all very vague, but it’s not that vague! An important thing to note, as well, Pond. Slog only said that The Doctor was a female – he didn’t say what species… He didn’t necessarily mean an Earth Human, which is what I assume that you mean when you say woman. But if I remember him, then obviously it isn’t my own personal future, is it?”

Amy pondered over this for a couple of heartbeats, then removed her hand so that she could clap both of hers around his. “Okay, so maybe it’s a different Strax! Maybe the next time you regenerate you become a female porcupine: meet this Sontaran bloke, and rescue all the Slog’s! Isn’t that a possibility?”

“No, Amelia. I’m afraid it isn’t.” There was a finality to the Doctor’s hushed reply that sent a chill down Amy’s spine. However, his tone lightened as he continued, a hint of self-deprecating humour twinkling in his eyes. “I’m afraid that I didn’t make a very good job of explaining regeneration to you, Pond. Perhaps I should have another go..?’ He trailed off, his eyes asking for permission.

Unable to speak past the heavy sensation that had just arrived in her chest, Amy simply nodded, hoping that the Time Lord wouldn’t notice her sudden nervousness.

Naturally, he did.

‘Don’t worry, Pond! It’s not something that you need to worry about right now… Promise!’ The Doctor gave her a reassuring grin, then admitted more quietly, ‘Didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry.’

Then he clapped his hands together briskly, announcing, ‘So! A potted summary of Time Lord Regeneration!

‘Well, in my first life – when I was the original me, if you like – I was quickened in the loom…

'Er, I was born on a planet called Gallifrey. Like almost every other life-form ever known, I grew from childhood through to adulthood. I lived a ‘normal’ life. At least in terms of the aging process, anyway. It was only when my original body became so old and tired that I no longer wished to continue, that I allowed myself to regenerate for the first time.

‘I think that’s the only time I’ve ever died of old age…’

As he spoke, the Doctor allowed his attention to drift towards the tree thrusting up from the center of its pool; sprays of water cascading down its limbs and trunks. Amy couldn’t take her eyes off his face, which had become alight with curiosity and interest, as he continued talking absently.

‘You see, that is what life held for most Time Lords when I was growing up. A long life of doing little more than staying alive, to be followed by more lives doing pretty much the same. At least, that’s how it seemed to me to me when I was young – that’s why I had to leave. However, I don’t want to give you the impression that this is actual immortality: even Time Lords have a limit to how many times they can regenerate. The actual limit chosen was twelve regenerations, although I couldn’t really tell you why. In my more cynical moments, I suspect that the Time Lords never thought anyone would ever need more than thirteen lives!’

At this point the Doctor actually barked out a laugh, and flashed his teeth at Amy in a madman’s grin. ‘They were certainly surprised at just how fast I raced through my own! In comparison to themselves, that is! I actually met a few, up to my fifth regeneration at least, that I had grown up with – who were still on their first body!”

Encouraged by this display of humour, Amy asked, quite innocently. “So how many regenerations have you been through? How many have you got left?” (I don’t believe I’m having this conversation. She reflected numbly.)

The Doctor’s face fell slightly, and he glanced back towards the central tree before replying. “Well, that’s actually more or less why I originally wanted to raise the subject in the first place… Although I had hoped to find a better way to do it, at a time of my own choosing. To make a very long story very, very short, I’m on my twelfth regeneration – my thirteenth life. I sort of lost count for a while, because one of me did something so terrible that I eventually chose to deny his existence. He was not the Doctor… therefore, I couldn’t have done it.”

He slowly turned back to face Amy, studying her face carefully to gauge her reaction. The only thing that she could think to say was. “So, when you die in this body – you’ll really be dead? I mean – you’ll stay dead?”

The Doctor actually smiled ironically at this, then shrugged. “Well, that’s not such a big deal now, is it? I mean, the vast majority of lifeforms tend to stay dead when they die, Pond! That’s the natural order of things in the wider universe, the old making way for the new! Anyway, how does it make any difference? Before I told you about Regeneration, were you expecting me to live forever?”

“Of course not!’ Amy snarled, suddenly angry. ‘So why did you have to tell me in the first place? Just so you could give me hope for the future, then snatch it away and say ‘I didn’t really mean it!’ She was, ridiculously enough, almost on the verge of tears! ‘I never realised that you could be so cruel, Doctor!”

The Time Lord placed his hands on her shoulders, but Amy shook them off, scooting back away from him. He accepted this sadly, holding his hands up in surrender. “Yes.’ he muttered softly, almost to himself, ‘I suppose that it does sound that way, coming like this. I had wanted to find a better time…’ The Doctor leant towards her, folding his arms into his crossed legs. ‘It was actually my wish to protect you, believe it or not! If you are to travel with me for a long time – and I really hope that you are – there is no telling what we may encounter along the way. I didn’t want you to find out about regeneration from some other source. I didn’t want you to think that I am some kind of magical being that can never die.

'Those are the kind of stories – legends – that you might hear about me.

‘I just wanted you to know…”

“Wait a minute!’ Amy demanded suddenly. She had only been half listening to the Doctor, replaying something that he had said earlier in her mind. ‘Did you say that this twelve regeneration limit was chosen? That somebody actually decided to limit how many regenerations a Time Lord could have?”

“Er… Yes.”

“So doesn’t that mean that this limitation is a deliberate thing, that the process could continue indefinitely otherwise?”

The Doctor seemed to debate with himself for a moment, then released a heartfelt sigh. “I always knew you were a clever girl, Amy. A special girl.’ He rolled his shoulders and twisted his head about, unpleasant crackling sounds emanating from his neck, then admitted. ‘Yes, Pond, and the Time Lords had the technology to do something about that, if the cause was considered sufficient.’ He studied her for a moment, as if wondering whether to continue.

Amy raised her most inquisitive eyebrow as she tilted her head in his direction, so he relented.

‘A long time ago, relatively speaking, five of me were taken out of our own timeframes… kidnapped, abducted, whatever.

‘Four of us found ourselves trapped in The Death Zone, on Gallifrey…”

“That doesn’t sound very pleasant!” Amy commented, rearranging her legs so that she could rest her chin on her knees, hugging her shins for comfort.

“Oh, it wasn’t, believe me! Anyway…“

“Wait a minute…” Amy couldn’t help interrupting, even though she wanted to hear this story. ‘You said that four of you were there – what happened to the other one?”

“I’m not entirely sure, it’s all a bit of a blur really… I was always getting lost when I was him… Although I would never have admitted it, of course.

‘But the point is, the High Council decided to enlist the aid of my oldest adversary – to help, if you can believe that! Naturally, he had his own agenda – never intended to fulfil his side of the bargain at all.’

The Doctor looked desperately sad for a moment, then shook himself out of it, simply commenting, ‘Shame, really. You see, he was on his last regeneration by then.

‘Beyond it, actually. He had stolen someone else’s body. The High Council offered to grant him an entirely new regeneration cycle, if he would help.”

He fell quiet for long moments, until Amy tried to get him going again. “Sounds like a good deal to me!’ She exclaimed. ‘He must have been pretty stupid to turn it down.”

“Oh, he didn’t turn it down. He just thought that he could outwit everybody else, and still get prize.’ The Doctor shrugged. ‘He wasn’t stupid at all… Just far too clever for his own good.”

New hope filled Amy now, and she enthusiastically suggested. “But doesn’t that mean that this… This High Council could give you a new regeneration cycle?”

“Not really.’ The Doctor whispered grimly. ‘You see… Gallifrey is gone. The High Council is gone. The Time Lords are gone…

‘I killed them all.”


	11. Chapter 11

It was all a bit too much to take in, really.

Hugging her legs tighter, Amy tried to process what the Doctor had told her, but the pieces just wouldn’t come together. She couldn’t imagine him hurting a fly on purpose, let alone wiping out an entire race…

(An entire planet?)

It just didn’t fit the picture that she had been painting in her head since she was a child. Okay, the Doctor could be evasive and mysterious, for sure, but Amy had never felt that he was being deliberately secretive: more that he couldn’t actually get a grip on his memories himself, sometimes. Raising her eyes from her contemplation of her own clasped hands, Amy looked deep into the Doctor’s eyes, and nearly fell into those pools of guarded sadness. He actually believed what he was saying!

“There must have been a reason. Right?’ She asked desperately, her voice hoarse – barely above a whisper. ‘I mean, you didn’t just go on some mad Time Lord murder-spree for fun, right?

‘There was a reason?”

“Oh, there’s always a reason, Pond.’ He replied, equally softly, nodding unconsciously as his eyes lost focus. He appeared to be gazing inside himself. ‘Whether that reason is rational, sane, or justifiable…

‘Well, in this particular case, I have to believe that it was…”

He broke off there, so Amy waited tensely, giving him space to gather his thoughts. When he looked back at her, it was with an air of resignation and, perhaps, just a little hardening of resolve.

“There was a war.’ He sighed. (‘Isn’t there always?’ Amy thought glumly, but maintained her silence.)

‘The Time War.

‘I don’t remember it very well, for which I am extremely grateful…

‘But some of it…

‘Can you imagine time being used as a weapon, Pond?

‘Somebody had to end The Time War, before the war ended time itself – something had to be done to preserve the very existence of reality…

‘Somehow it fell to me.

‘I used The Moment.

‘I pressed The Big Red Button.

‘Everybody died…”

“You didn’t.” Amy pointed out, feeling both uncomfortable at stating the obvious, and guilty at the unintentionally accusatory emphasis of her words.

“I know.’ The Doctor sighed, then a hint of the proper Doctor returned, with a faintly ironic grin. ‘Did you think I hadn’t noticed, Pond?’

He became serious again almost immediately, frowning deeply as he confessed. “But I still don’t know why I didn’t die along with everyone else. How did I … Why did I survive? I’m convinced that I have searched for answers to those questions for a long time – but I am still no closer to finding them.

‘However, knowing who I am – knowing who I believe myself to be – I’m sure that it wasn’t by choice.”

Amy relaxed slightly, releasing the hold on her legs so that she could cross them beneath her, and shook her head. “This is more than I can cope with at the moment, Doctor. Could we have this conversation later?”

“Take a pain check?’ The Time Lord offered gently. (He didn’t look like he was trying to make a joke.) ‘That’s probably for the best, Pond. Yes, let’s do that. Thank you.”

Quite unintentionally, almost like the proverbial old married couple, they both span around on the parapet to place their feet back on the floor simultaneously. Amy leaned forward to rest her hands on her thighs and said, without looking at him. “I’ll want to come back to this later, Doctor. When it feels right.’ Then, forcing a lightness into here tone that she didn’t truly feel, she added. ‘So I guess that you won’t be getting a new regeneration cycle and turning into a woman, after all?” She turned her head to check his reaction to this, and found him smiling at her ruefully.

“Well, I must admit,’ he admitted, ‘right here and now, that does seem rather unlikely…’ Then the Time Lord squinted beneath a thoughtful frown, rubbing his chin pensively before adding. ‘But who knows? We live in a multiverse of infinite possibilities, Pond, and one thing I have learned is that there are no rules.

‘But…

‘For my own sanity…

‘I have to believe that I’m all I’ve got left – I’m not sure that I would be able to do what I do otherwise...

‘Can you understand that, Amelia?”

 

Amy instinctively pushed the Doctor away, as he appeared to be totally oblivious to the approaching threat. Caught off guard (he had been casting about frantically, trying to see what she was talking about,) the Time Lord squawked as he fell into a display of exotic foodstuffs.

Under any other circumstances, Amy might have found his panicked efforts to juggle falling containers amusing, but she only had time to raise an arm in futile self-defense… Then the illusory manifestation was upon her. As it loomed up in the corner of her eye, Amy’s animal brain caused her to tense in expectation of physical attack: even though, intellectually, she tried to convince herself that this wasn’t actually happening now.

It didn’t really help.

As the echo, or shadow – or whatever the Hell it was! – passed through her, an almost indescribable sensation of dislocation overwhelmed her. It felt like the bottom had fallen out of her stomach, or – and this was an even more unsettling notion – perhaps it was the other way round! This was such an icky thought that Amy refused to even acknowledge it. Fighting against intense waves of vertigo, she concentrated on images of kerbs and pavements, and the ground not being there when you put your foot down. She had no way of telling just how long this nauseating experience lasted. If this was what it meant to be ‘time-sensitive’, Amy decided that she didn’t want to play anymore...

Had she known that anything like this might happen, Amy would not have been so keen to distract the Doctor from his disturbing revelations. At the time, of course, it had seemed like the sensible thing to do. She had explained, quite reasonably under the circumstances, that she had no way of beginning to understand what he was experiencing or feeling. So could they please get back to a slightly safer subject – like what the bloody buggering Hell was going on! Shouldn’t he be doing clever ‘Doctory’ stuff with his sonic screwdriver, and solving the problems of the Universe with some egg boxes, washing-up liquid bottles, sticky-back plastic… and a pair of Val’s old knickers?

He had looked ever so slightly confused in the face of this tirade, and cautiously placed a hand against her forehead, as if checking her temperature! Amy had been about to give him a seriously good telling off, when the Doctor’s face had collapsed into itself. He looked so lost and dejected that Amy was unable to maintain her anger, and actually found herself apologising! To him! (Although, to be totally honest, she had lifted that line from some vaguely remembered comedy sketch… Wasn’t actually sure what it meant… Actually.)

“Look, Doctor,’ she had offered as an olive branch, ‘Why don’t you finish doing whatever you were doing to the Sonic. And maybe you could tell me what you are doing to it, while you do it! I really would like to know, honestly!”

This seemed to perk the Time Lord up a little. Or, at least, he appeared to regain his self-confidence a bit. “Already done, Pond!’ he declared, patting his right breast pocket confidently. ‘You see, as I was observing those… Um… Well, let’s call them ‘manifestations’ for the moment.

‘Those manifestations were obviously creating some kind of distortion in the visual spectrum – at least, visible to those of us who are time sensitive…”

“Well, why didn’t you ask me?’ Amy had prompted mischievously. ‘I could have told you that!”

“Really?” Had been the suitably impressed response.

“Of course not, you Herbert! What are you going on about?”

Amy had been pleased to see that she had managed to throw the Doctor off…

Enough so, that he had totally immersed himself in the ‘here and now’ again. (As far as that was possible, given the situation.) “Ah!’ He replied with a wagging finger. ‘Clever old Pond! Time to confuse the Doctor and make him explain stuff that he doesn’t actually understand himself, is it? Well, Matey Girl, I’ve got your number! I’m onto your game!’ He hadn’t stopped waving that emphatic finger about – at all – during this bravura exposition: but suddenly noticed it, and lowered his hand apologetically. ‘Yes, well,’ he murmured uncertainly. ‘I suppose it’s possible that I’ve got it totally the wrong way round, and your Mister Blobby’s are just residual interference patterns left over from some failed time experiment… (He grimaced, evidently not really liking that notion too much.)

‘But I think it is much more likely that they are actual manifestations, which exist in a localised area of space, yet don’t have any physical interaction with that space. That’s why I called them shadows, or echoes before. That’s a teensy bit of an oversimplification really… What I mean is, they do exist, at some point in time, and the Tardis seems to think that we can find some way to interact with them. She wouldn’t have brought us here otherwise, would she?”

 “Um… Probably not, Doctor.“ Amy agreed, hoping that he wasn’t planning to set a test later.

“Exactly!’ The Time Lord had pounced, as if she had somehow proved a pet theory. Suddenly, his hands were dancing about in the air, attempting to illustrate what he was trying to say.‘ That being the case, it occurred to me that if we can detect disturbances in the visual spectrum… With nothing more sophisticated than our own temporally sensitised optic nerves… Well then, I could program the Sonic to detect other…’ Somehow, the Doctor managed to twiddle not just his thumbs, but his entire hands, before plumping for, ‘Stuff…

‘I mean, without getting too technical and using lots of really long words, it could probably pick up all sorts of… Timey-Wimey thingummy-whatsits!” By this point his hands had become intertwined in an extremely uncomfortable looking cat’s-cradle of random fingers, scrunched up just to one side of his chin, as his elbows tried to work out what was he was doing.

Amy had found herself at a loss for an answer, even though the Doctor was looking at her as if he expected one. (Or perhaps he just wanted her to tell him how clever she thought he was.)

After staring at him goggle-eyed for a few moments, she had decided to call his bluff. “I’m sorry, Doctor, that’s still a bit too technical for me. What sort of thingummy-whatsit’s were you thinking of?”

“Ah.’ The Time Lord had replied evasively, suddenly finding it necessary to concentrate on untangling his hands. ‘Oh, you know,’ he mumbled quietly, ‘fluctuations caused by reverse tachyon waves within the imaginary mass of the present state. Massive distortions in the Planck length of the quantum foam that underlies the known Universe. Maybe even something to do with bits of string – the possibilities are infinite.”

“Oh… Good,’ Amy submitted, forced to silently accept that she’d been out-bluffed by an expert. (Even though she was pretty sure he’d just made it all up.) ‘Glad that’s sorted… So, how does it help us, exactly?”

“Well, that’s the clever bit, Pond!’ The Doctor had beamed in response, looking much more comfortable with his hands disentangled. ‘We should just be able let the Sonic lead the way! What I suggest is that we go into the next place along and…     

‘What is the next place along, anyway?” He had suddenly asked, sounding surprised that the question had only just occurred to him.

At the time, Amy hadn’t really seen how that mattered anyway, if it wasn’t where these ‘manifestations’ actually were. “Who cares?’ she had asked, illustrating her complete lack of interest with the appropriate shrug. ‘Why aren’t you programing your sonic screwdriver to sort everything out?“ (She was actually quite proud that she had managed not to ask him to whip up a… a quick Chicken Teriyaki, while he was about it!)

“Oh, that’s all sorted, Pond, didn’t I tell you already?’ He had replied with satisfaction, confidently patting his right breast-pocket again, ‘Did all that while you were wool-gathering! I’ve set this up to act as a passive sensor – which is a bit of a new thing for me, I must admit.

‘Usually I use the Sonic in its active mode… you know, unlocking locked doors, opening mysterious pipeline covers, blowing up minefields… That sort of thing.”

“Blowing up minefields?”

“Er… Never mind… I was a bit of a lad in those days, thought I was James Bond. Anyway, what I’m trying to tell you is… I think that I’ve managed to rig up the Sonic to vibrate if it detects any of these temporal thingummy-whatsits.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Doctor? Keeping it in your jacket pocket, I mean.

‘The last time I called Rory when he had his mobile on silent – he thought he was having heart palpitations!”

Amy would have paid real money to see the Doctor’s reaction to that particular comment!

He had looked rather uncertainly towards his jacket, then gingerly retrieved the Sonic. For a few moments he seemed to dither over whether or not to place the device in the left breast pocket. Then, after a momentary confusion flitted across his face, he had just shrugged and stood up, stuffing the Sonic into a trouser pocket instead. Amy had observed this performance with interest, and was surprised to see that the screwdriver disappeared without marring the cut of his jib in the slightest. (Not that she had ever made a close study of the Doctor’s trouser department previously… Obviously!)

She couldn’t help an amused quirk of the eyebrow as she rose to stand beside him. “So, you don’t think that something vibrating in your trouser pocket might… Surprise you a little?” She had asked, feeling deliciously naughty at her cheek.

Unfortunately, the Time Lord had just given her an odd look.

“No.’ he had replied, genuinely confused. ‘Why should it?”

After that disappointing response, Amy had decided to just follow along quietly like a good little girl, (Yeah, right!) as the Doctor had started towards the premises in question. It was almost like playing a slow-motion version of ‘Frogger’ – an antique videogame that a friend had once shown her – as they kept having to stop for passersby.

At each pause, the Doctor babbled on.

“Of course, there is no way to know if it will work until we test it. So the best place to start is in there.’ He had indicated (rather unnecessarily, Amy considered,) the shop front that they were aiming for. ‘Hopefully, once we get inside, the Sonic will be able to give us a clue as to the presence of our quarry.”

“How do we know that they will still be there, Doctor? We’ve been sitting out here for quite a long time…”

“Really, Pond. I thought I had explained that! We aren’t looking at events that are happening now – they’re probably more like recordings etched into the fabric of space/time itself. We could probably go back into Slog’s place right now, and watch what we saw previously all over again…

‘I think…

‘Anyway…

‘No, please Madam, after you! Oh! What a lovely little… Er… You must be very proud!

‘Anyway, all I really want to do for now is to confirm my suspicions. As you pointed out earlier, the manifestations are unlikely to notice us – we haven’t happened yet, for them – but maybe we can get a better idea of…

‘Um…

‘I’ll come back to that.”

Having safely reached the storefront, Amy was amused to notice that it appeared to be some kind of supermarket. Instead of the usual display window, this one was simply some kind of advertising hoarding. A constantly changing parade of the (presumably) un-live-withoutable goodies available within. (Although, Amy had suddenly realised uncomfortably, it could just as well be a cinema. Maybe that mouthwatering bowl of creamy deliciousness was actually a famous actor! How would she know?)

Thankfully, once they were inside she could see reassuringly familiar rows of aisles, shelves, and stand-alone displays – although there was a distinct lack of checkout counters. (Or attendant minimum wage earners.)

The Doctor was looking around curiously, evidently puzzled to find himself somewhere so mundane. As they had begun to explore the store, Amy was thankful that he didn’t want her to lead him around by the arm anymore. However, she did find it rather embarrassing when he kept checking his trousers with a surreptitious hand. She had just been about to politely suggest that he should stop adjusting himself in public when, from the corner of her eye, Amy caught a glimpse of a blurry blob emerging through the nearby rack of shelving. (From which she had just removed a packet of ‘Yummy-Nums’, in an attempt to look like she was actually shopping.)

“Bloody Hell!’ She shrieked, totally freaked out by the sudden appearance, but keeping an eye on it even though she was looking towards the Time Lord. ‘I think you must have cocked up the settings on the Sonic again, Doctor! Mister Blobby is right here, already!”

Amy instinctively pushed the Doctor away, as he appeared to be totally oblivious to the approaching threat. Caught off guard (he had been casting about frantically, trying to see what she was talking about,) the Time Lord squawked as he fell into a display of exotic foodstuffs…

 

Suddenly the deeply unsettling sensation was gone, and Amy staggered slightly as she found her legs were back where they were supposed to be. The Doctor lay sprawled on the floor some distance away, amidst the floating remnants of a display stand and its contents. Amazingly enough, nothing (apart from, possibly, the Doctor,) appeared to have been damaged. He was struggling to get up, and was being assisted by a very peculiar creature that, to Amy’s somewhat twisted perception, appeared to have… appeared out of nowhere.

That was the only possible reason, Amy tried to convince herself, that she hadn’t noticed it previously. It was huge! The size and general shape of a Walrus, it was floating above the Time Lord on a hovering platform, and had disturbingly human-like porcine features. Before Amy could ask what was going on, however, a second wave of vertigo washed through her, and she lost the plot once more. At least this time, she speculated vaguely, she hadn’t seen it coming: and so, paradoxically, knew what to expect! It must be the second Mister Blobby, of course, so Amy attempted to ignore her body’s insistence that she was turning inside out, and concentrated on the Doctor’s rescuer instead.


	12. Chapter 12

Several things seemed to happen in rapid succession, after the Doctor had found himself unexpectedly propelled into a display stand.

Firstly, and predictably enough, he began scrabbling frantically to prevent the stand from collapsing: at the same time attempting to catch hold of more items than he actually had arms for. This was compounded by the fact that he was heading floor-wards at an alarming rate, with no limbs free to cushion the inevitable impact. Several distinctly heavy items bounced off his head as well, just to add insult to imminent injury.

And then he stopped moving.

Remarkably, so did everything else. He found himself being lowered gently to the floor, on what felt like a cushion of air, whilst the explosion of assorted containers hovered about patiently. Before the Doctor even realised that he had landed quite comfortably, he found himself cast in shadow, and a slightly rustic sounding voice asked. “Make a habit of falling over like that, do you, Sir?”

“Excuse me?” The Time Lord asked, batting aside exotic food items until he could locate who he was talking to. Initially all he could see was the underside of some kind of platform, then stubby fingers gripped its edge, and a jowly porcine face hove into view.

“Last time I saw you, Sir. You was falling over then as well.’ The face explained, then a squared-off digit was raised as it suggested. ‘Perhaps you should try eating the food, Sir, instead of dancing with it. A bit of meat on your bones might help you to stay upright!”

“What?’ Asked the Doctor, rather weakly. (He was at a total loss as to what else to say.) Then he realised that this chap must have witnessed his rather undignified return to the Atrium, back when he had fallen out of the emergency stairwell. ‘Oh, No! I don’t actually fall over all that much, as a rule. On this particular occasion I was pushed!” The Time Lord was just about to cast an accusing glare in Pond’s direction, when he felt himself being dragged upwards by the load of tins and cartons he still held in his arms.

“Ah, well that would explain it then.’ Agreed the amiable creature, evidently operating some kind of manipulator field to reassemble the display stand, and replace the contents. ‘Er…’ It continued, slightly more hesitantly, as it regarded the Doctor’s haul. ‘Were you actually considering purchasing any of those items, Sir? Only, you have some particular favourites of mine there… That’s why I was coming this way in the first place, actually…”

The Doctor, now fully upright once more, found the expression of devout longing in the being’s eyes as it regarded his armful of goods – ever so slightly unnerving. Still, he reflected, he hadn’t actually wanted any of this stuff in the first place, so he beamed at the creature and offered. “Oh, please help yourself, Sir! It was most kind of you to assist me… the least I can do is to let you have first dibs!” This was greeted most enthusiastically, and the Doctor was forced to relinquish his hold as the items began straining towards the large fellow.

“Mmmph! Mmmph!’ The remarkable being exclaimed in appreciation, as the various containers floated towards him. ‘That is most generous of you, Sir! I thank you for the consideration.’ He paused for a moment, a faint trace of worry edging his features, then added. ’I do hope that you are not merely doing this because you feel beholden to me. I wouldn’t want that at all, Sir!’

The look of relief and gratitude in the creature’s eyes as the Doctor assured him that he insisted – wouldn’t hear otherwise, in fact – was something to see. ‘Oh, thank you, Sir! That is good to hear! I do so adore Binklavian Wogglejigs and Unklanee Sautéed Prong Giblets! They are, to be honest, mmmph, something of a weakness of mine – and this is the only place where you can get the real article!”

Then, suddenly remembering something – now that the terrifying prospect of possibly losing his Sautéed Blinky Wossname’s had comfortably receded – he asked. “Erm… I’m sorry, Sir, but did you say that you were pushed?”     

The Doctor couldn’t believe that he had allowed himself to become so distracted. (Pond! Aarghh! What about Pond!) He span around abruptly, desperately seeking his companion. (And idly juggling a few choice words that might be heading in her direction in the very near future!) However, once he actually clapped eyes on her, any pithy comments that he may have hurled her way sputtered into oblivion. (Bit of a shame really – some of them were quite good!)

Pond was staring directly at him and his new acquaintance, her body quivering in a most alarming fashion. In one hand she held a box of something, presumably edible, that was rattling in time with her St. Vitus tremors. Her eyes were incredibly wide, as if she had just realised that it really wasn’t a good idea to stick your finger into an electric plug socket. Even her hair look surprised! Instead of the calmly flowing drapery that the Doctor had become accustomed to, now she looked like that pesky old proverbial cat had had a go at her.

“Pond?” The Time Lord croaked. (Rather inadequately, even he had to admit.)

As if his voice had broken a spell, Pond staggered a step towards him, then determinedly gripped the arm holding the rattling box – ‘Yummy-Nums’, apparently – until it stopped rattling. “They just went right through me, Doctor!” His rather shaken friend gasped in disbelief.

“Well, I’m not surprised! Mmmph! Mmmph!’ Commented the big creature on the hover platform. ‘Do the same thing to me! Never touch them anymore – far too much roughage! You should try a nice slice of…”

“What did you push me away for, Pond?’ The Doctor interrupted impatiently, and more than a little worried about his friend’s condition. ‘You didn’t give me time to reset the Sonic – I didn’t have a chance to see anything. Was it them? Where are they now? And what’s happened to your hair?”

Amy reeled under this verbal barrage, still not really feeling that she was all there. Her first reaction, as she slowly managed to re-orient herself, was to check her hair. Of course, this just resulted in bashing herself in the side of the head with a box of cereals…

The Pig/Walrus creature was watching all this with interest, and kindly took it upon itself to return the Yummy-Nums to the shelving. Still slightly wobbly, Amy couldn’t make out just how this was achieved, but as she patted at her unfamiliar mass of springy hair, she tried to thank it. Unfortunately, before the words left her mouth, she noticed that more of the floating food items were heading towards its platform than to the restored display stand, and said. “Blimey! Are you really going to eat all that?”

The Doctor clapped a hand to his forehead and turned back to the creature urgently. “Please excuse my friend,’ he requested apologetically, flapping ‘don’t shoot!’ signals with his hands. ‘She seems to have had a bit of shock! I think that I should get her some medical attention.”

By now Amy was feeling a bit more like herself, and she started to bristle at the Time Lords presumption. However, the huge gourmand was already replying, so she kept quiet as it regarded her thoughtfully. “I should think a few good meals would be a better idea. Mmmph! Mmmph! The poor child looks positively starved! No offense, my dear…'

Amy thought to offer an apology of her own, in case the creature had been upset by her inadvertent comment, but it continued talking. ‘Now, as to eating all of these products, young Madam, I do indeed intend to consume them, with great relish and gusto!’ A look that Amy could only interpret as intense pride suffused its porcine features, as it declared. ‘And considerably more besides! You see, my dear, I am not just eating for myself!”

Now Amy really did feel bad, assuming that the creature meant that it (She?) was pregnant. However, before she could manage to mumble more than an embarrassed “Oh! I’m terribly…” the Doctor whisked her away, shouting his thanks once more.

“And I hope that everything goes well for you, Madam!’ He added as a farewell, suddenly finding himself with an armful of wobbly Pond, and leaving a slightly confused looking Pig/Walrus behind them.,,

 

The Doctor regarded Pond with deep concern, as she rattled her way through a (fairly incoherent) description of what she had felt in the supermarket. Although much of what she was saying didn’t make very much sense – at first – just talking about it seemed to help her. Part of him noted the gradual resurfacing of an indefinable ‘Pond-ness’ as she spoke, and the Time Lord welcomed the return. (Calmness and self-confidence, with just a hint of ‘Stitch that, Jimmy!’ That’s what little Pond’s were made of…) However, most of his concentration was focused on working out just how his friend’s experience fitted into his own understanding of the situation… (If that wasn’t claiming too much credit – perhaps ‘understanding’ was slightly optimistic. He wished the Tardis had managed to offer up at least a few clues, before landing them in this mess.)

It was blindingly obvious that the young woman had had an extremely close encounter, of the most unsettling kind, so: Why had nothing registered on the Sonic? Where had he gone wrong? Had he gone wrong? The Doctor was in danger of sinking into a spiral of self-defeating questions, on several different levels of his awareness, when his Pond-sense tingled and he noticed his young companion looking around. She appeared slightly puzzled and, almost inevitably, just a tad annoyed. “What are we doing back here?’ She asked. ‘Are we gonna spend this entire ‘investigation’ sitting by the fountain, Doctor?”

The Time Lord paused to study the girl before answering. She had been alternately shaky, then almost catatonic, as he’d practically carried her back to sit by the central feature. (Despite her indignant, if somewhat feeble, protests.) He had had no intention of risking his friend’s safety back in the supermarket. If the sonic screwdriver wasn’t detecting those manifestations as intended, the possibility of a repeat occurrence was not to be countenanced. Just the one taste of temporal – uncertainty? – had knocked her for six, and it was the Doctor’s intention to make sure that it didn’t happen again! Now that Pond was looking bright eyed and bushy tailed, full of piss and vinegar, and all sorts of other energetic idioms, the Time Lord offered her a warm smile and said. “Well, it was the first place I thought of, Pond. I’m afraid that things didn’t quite go to plan, did they?”

Although Amy was feeling much better now, she allowed herself a deliberate shudder to loosen her muscles, then asked incredulously. “That was a plan?”

The Doctor frowned. “I didn’t say it was a good plan!’ He mock protested, but then he took her hands tentatively in his own, squeezing gently. ‘I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t realise that there might be such a strong reaction between temporal states. If that is what happened to you. I’m not entirely sure…’ The Time Lord seemed to consider for a moment then, slightly alarmed, asked. ‘Did you get any impression that they knew you were there, Pond? That they were in any way aware of your presence?”

“Are you kidding me, Doctor?’ Amy asked in a tone of frank disbelief. ‘I wasn’t even aware of my presence! And I certainly didn’t feel like I was all there, for however long it lasted! Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing really…’ He shrugged away the question. Then, still looking slightly unsure of himself, the Doctor added, ‘it was only a passing thought. I just wondered if it worked both ways, and WHOOP!”

Amy drew back in alarm as the Doctor suddenly leapt to his feet, nearly sending herself into the pool behind her. Fortunately, her body reacted faster than her brain, which was otherwise occupied. She grabbed hold of the parapet instinctively, hardly aware that she had done so, as one hundred and eleven percent of her attention was focused on the Time Lord. He was swiveling his hips about in a most distracting fashion and, when Amy finally thought to look higher up, had a frown of intense concentration attacking his eyebrows. Amy’s initial thoughts lost track of where they were going when he turned away from her, and her eyes decided to check out the view from behind.

By now the Doctor had his hands on his hips, further exaggerating the almost hypnotic Time Lord Tango he appeared to be performing. Amy could feel her eyes growing wider and wider, until they actually started to hurt! “Doctor!’ She shouted in horrified amazement. (Well, she would have done, if her tongue hadn’t decided to take a little nap. All she actually said was ‘…’) Clearing her throat repeatedly, Amy forced herself upright and clapped a hand on his shoulder, intending to swing him round to face her. This didn’t have any effect on the Doctor, who still appeared to be trying to polish his trousers from the inside. She shook him roughly, shooting worried glances at various passersby, and managed to hiss in his ear. “Doctor! What the Hell do you think you are doing?”

“Don’t distract me, Pond.’ The Time Lord hissed in return, continuing to gyrate his lower torso as if auditioning for the latest Boy Band. ‘I think I’m picking something up!”

“Only if you’re starring in a really bad 1970’s disco movie, Pal!’ Amy snorted, wondering if she should try to stand in front of the Doctor, to shield his sinuous rotations from the view of anyone of a delicate disposition. After a moment’s consideration, she decided that this probably wasn’t a good idea. ‘Will you please stop doing that, Doctor?’ Was about the only thing she could think of to say.

“Please don’t break my concentration, Pond, this is trickier than it looks.’ The Time Lord assured her, oblivious to Amy’s rolling eyes and ironic snort. ‘I’m trying to triangulate the source of a disruption that the Sonic seems to be detecting. I don’t want to take it out of my pocket in case it alarms any observers.’

Amy was about to make a few choice comments on his sense – or lack thereof – of what constituted ‘alarming’: but he carried on talking, turning further away from her. ‘The odd thing is, although the signal is strong at times, it’s also quite intermittent. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t pick anything up when you had your, um… contact. But now it seems that the disturbance is somewhere behind us. It doesn’t appear to be related to the manifestations that we met on this side of the fountain…”

“So why are you still shaking your groove thang at the supermarket?” Amy managed to break in, having noticed (with some embarrassment) that a small group of curious onlookers was beginning to gather.

“Just being thorough, Pond.’ The Time Lord replied, shooting her a look that suggested this was the obvious answer. ‘We don’t want to just abandon the only clues we have so far. At least, I don’t. Not before I’m sure I haven’t missed anything.”

Amy winced as the Doctor gave a satisfied nod, stopped playing with his invisible Hula-Hoop, and turned to stalk off with a ‘follow me’ gesture. He stopped abruptly, noticing his audience for the first time as they broke into spontaneous applause. He looked even more surprised when two or three fans actually threw small bits of odd currency in his direction. He automatically caught them all, which – Amy had to admit – was quite impressive, then gave her a look of guilty embarrassment and shrugged.

Then he threw his arms wide and faced the small crowd. “Thank you! Thank you! No really, you’re too kind! Too kind! But I can’t accept this!’ He announced, edging away backwards whilst trying to return the loot: grinning madly and glaring desperately in Amy’s direction.

Nobody seemed too concerned about getting their money back, and they all lost interest rapidly when it became clear the entertainment was over. Amy deliberately ignored the Time Lord’s increasingly urgent head-jerks as he made his escape, and began to stroll after him with deliberate slowness. She noted (with smug satisfaction) that when the Doctor finally drew himself to a halt to wait for her, his face was delightfully pink. Smiling like the cat that got the cream, Amy sauntered up to him and purred. “Well, Doctor, at least you didn’t alarm anybody… I think they quite enjoyed it, actually…”

“Erm…’ the Doctor squirmed, nervously jiggling his small change as he avoided looking at her. Then he stuffed it all into a jacket pocket and changed the subject, affecting a casual stroll around the far edge of the central edifice. ‘This way, Pond. I’m now fairly sure of the location of… Whatever it is that the Sonic is reading, but I’m still not sure just what it is. And I still can’t figure out what it has to do with our manifestations. However, they must be connected in some way, so perhaps if we can work out what this is, it will give us some idea of what they are.”

Although she wasn’t really finished with winding the Doctor up, Amy decided to save it for later, opting instead to prompt him for information. “Alright then, Doctor, if this isn’t what you thought it was, what do you think it could be? I mean, you said something about time experiments earlier. Is there any chance it has something to do with… somebody who hasn’t got a clue what they’re doing, mucking about with time travel?”

If the Doctor noticed any irony in the question, he chose not to acknowledge it. Instead, he placed a hand in each trouser pocket – presumably to get a slightly more subtle grip on the Sonic’s directional vibrations – and assumed a rolling gait as he paraded onwards: the very picture of a relaxed rake about town. By now Amy was finding it almost as easy as the Doctor did – avoiding preoccupied shoppers with little more than a smile or an ‘excuse me’ – but the Time Lord’s tone didn’t match his amiable appearance. “I certainly hope not, Pond!’ he gritted through a fixed grin. ‘All sorts of unpleasant things can happen when people do that. The Time Lords used to send me to fix that sort of thing out all the… time. Of course, that’s not the case here, for obvious reasons…”

This didn’t sound like much of an answer to Amy, who was getting a little tired of all this evasiveness, so she pressed him further. “But doesn’t that make you a bit of an expert on fixing failed time experiments then, Doctor?”

This caused the Time Lord to pause in his nonchalant ambulation, then he stepped closer to her and – removing a hand from a pocket – offered her his arm. “Not really, Pond.’ He admitted, sounding rather frustrated as she took hold. ‘You see, when I was… Um… Encouraged to intervene on the Time Lords behalf, they usually managed to get me to the crisis point before it actually happened. And I was given just enough information to have some idea of what I was dealing with…’

By now the Doctor had returned his hand to the pocket, effectively trapping Amy against him, so she was pretty much forced to follow him as he continued. ‘This is quite different. Leaving aside the fact that I was often sent into a situation without the Tardis…’

“How do you travel through time without the Tardis?”

“As I said, Pond, leaving that aside… here we have no idea at what point we have intersected with this event, or even what it is. The only clue we have that it may be something wrong, something that needs to be fixed, is the fact that the Tardis brought us here in the first place! I can only guess that she sensed or felt something that worried her, somehow, and decided to check it out.”

On seeing just how confused and worried the Doctor had looked as he was talking, Amy had resisted the urge to protest the abrupt dismissal of her last question. But this time she put her foot down, literally, and brought him to an abrupt halt. “So what you’re telling me, Doctor, is that we have basically been hijacked, yeah? Does your time machine do that sort of thing often?”

The Time Lord looked quite offended as he instinctively retorted. “No, Pond, of course not!’ but then uncertainty washed across his features once more. ‘At least, I don’t think so,’ he hedged, chewing absently at his lip, ‘not that I’ve noticed, anyway.’

The Doctor treated Amy to one of those speculative looks that she always found so unsettling, before musing, almost to himself. ‘Well, it seems that we have nothing but time… Perhaps Regeneration isn’t the only thing that I failed to explain to you, Pond.’

‘Maybe I should tell you a little bit more about the Old Girl…”


	13. Chapter 13

As they sauntered arm in arm around the central tree/fountain, Amy couldn’t help thinking that they must look like ‘an item’. It was an amusing notion, but it would have been much more satisfying to parade the Doctor around the pubs and clubs back home. For his part the Doctor remained, as usual, oblivious of what other people might think. “It’s quite difficult to know where to begin though.’ He was saying. ‘The Tardis and I have been together for a very long time. I suppose that should be T.A.R.D.I.S. really, but it’s very difficult to pronounce capital letters and full stops without sounding like a telegram.

‘It’s an acronym, remember? Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Susan, my… my very first travelling companion, made it up.’ The Time Lord frowned again, made as if to shrug, then thought better of it. ‘At least, she thought she did, and I think I thought she did too, for a very long time.”

Amy puzzled over this for a fraction of a nanosecond before admitting. “Not following. Could you put that in words that make sense, Doctor?”

“Hmm? Oh, well, it’s rather odd really... never actually thought about it before. You see, most of us simply referred to the travel capsules as, erm… Travel Capsules when I was at the Academy. Maybe it’s just the foggy memories of an old man, but I’m not sure I ever heard the word Tardis until Susan and I left Gallifrey.”

This surprised Amy quite a bit, and she asked, “What? She was a Time Lord… Time Lady… as well?” before she realised she was going to.

The Doctor refused to look at her, but he seemed a little uncomfortable as he replied. “All Time Lords are Gallifreyan, Pond, but not all Gallifreyan’s are Time Lords. I have a nagging suspicion that I took Susan away with me before her… before she had finished her training. Anyway, it was her idea, really. I think.

‘But the thing is, even though it may not seem very important, when I eventually had to return to Gallifrey… Well, everyone was calling travel capsules that. TARDIS, I mean. So it kind of throws a lot of what I think I remember from those years into question.

‘What I’m really trying to get round to saying is – she has evolved so much over the centuries…’

“Who? Susan?”

“What? Oh! Very probably... 

'I was actually referring to the Tardis. She isn’t the simple – if such a term can be applied – Travel Capsule that I ran away from home in. Maybe once upon a time the Tardis was merely one of the most astonishingly complex machines ever created – she was old even when we escaped – but I find that hard to believe. They aren’t just machines – this one even less so than others. It took me a long time to understand this, but to truly get the best out of the old girl, I had to embrace the telepathic symbiosis that she offered to me.

‘Of course, telepathy is communication between minds, so it follows that she has a mind, which means that she is alive. Not only that but, like I said, she has evolved. I believe that our time and experiences together have freed the Tardis from any constraints that may once have limited her potential. Unlike the other Time Lords, I like to think that I have encouraged her to expand as an individual – as a person. There have been many obstacles to overcome, of course – just like in any relationship – we have had our arguments and disagreements, even trial separations, of a sort. But I honestly consider the Tardis to be my oldest friend, rather than a means of transport.”

“Ahh, that’s sweet!’ Amy responded automatically but, fearing that she may have sounded a little sarcastic, (But not jealous – never jealous!) hurriedly added. ‘Seriously, Doctor. But does that mean you don’t mind being taken to somewhere that you didn’t expect to be?”

“Ah! Now! I didn’t say that!’ The Time Lord replied, trying to look stern. ‘Although I do believe I mentioned that pinpoint accuracy in our travels is a comparatively recent development. No, I would prefer to take you where I promise to take you, obviously.

‘But I trust and respect the Tardis, and I don’t believe that she would do anything like this without a good reason. Or at least a reason.

'Ere, Pond, this is the place!”

Amy had to give the Doctor a double-take at his last comment, which seemed to have no bearing on what he had been saying. Then she realised that he had drawn her to a halt before one particular establishment. He was wiggling his hips at it suggestively, so Amy retrieved her arm and slapped him on the bottom. “Stop that!’ she scolded sharply, much to the Time Lords evident surprise. He blinked at her in confusion as she wagged a finger in his face. ‘This is very much a ‘to be continued’ conversation, Pal!’

Then she pointedly ignored him, taking the time to study this latest shopfront. (The Doctor wisely decided to keep quiet.) Unlike any of the other stores she had seen here, there didn’t actually appear to be any frontage. It was more like the entrance into an open market or bazaar. However, this didn’t actually make it any easier to see that far inside, as there was so much stuff on display that it gave the impression of a labyrinthine maze. Amy looked around to see if there was a name of the place anywhere, but only saw various signs saying ‘Everything you never knew you wanted!’

“So,’ Amy asked reluctantly, ‘This is the place then?”

“Ah! Yes!’ the Doctor responded enthusiastically, keen to be the fount of all knowledge again. “At least, it certainly seems to be, if the Sonic’s vibrations are anything to go by.’ He paused for a moment, peering in confusion into the mad mish-mash of weird exotica. ‘Although, I must admit that it’s not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting? What is this place?”

“Erm…’ the Time Lord prevaricated, realising that claiming to have expected anything was a bit of a reach, under the circumstances. ‘Don’t actually know... Actually.’ He admitted sheepishly, then added more confidently, ‘But it looks like an Antique’s or Curio’s shop to me!”

Amy gazed into the shop/market/bazaar somewhat dubiously, then glanced suspiciously at her companion. “Do you have a plan this time, Doctor?” she asked, more than a little ironically.

Fiddling with his tie in embarrassment, the Doctor made a show of peering intently into the place then, coming to a decision, offered her a reassuring grin. “Well, we go in and see what’s what, obviously!’ Manfully ignoring Ponds scowl, he carried on regardless, and shamelessly made it up as he went along. “What we have to do, Pond, is just wander about as if we are browsing like ordinary people!’

He indicated that she should enter with him, so Amy sullenly complied, still waiting to hear this plan. ‘I suggest that we split up.’ He continued. ‘While I locate the actual source of the readings the Sonic is picking up, you could just look around, you know, like you are interested in buying something.

‘Ooh! Look at that!”

Amy had been about to give the Doctor some polite opinions regarding his ‘plan’, when he suddenly darted over to a shelf to one side, and reached eagerly for something that she couldn’t see. Slightly annoyed, she joined him as he retrieved a fairly ordinary looking hammer, and a roll of wrapped leather. The Time Lord grinned at her, beamed at the hammer, and then frowned at the leather thing. He seemed torn for a moment, gazing from one to the other, before replacing the hammer on the shelf so that he could untie the cords around the leather case.

Amy was completely mystified by his behavior, so just observed in silence to see what he would do next.

Almost reverently, the Time Lord unfurled the leather folder, revealing a row of wooden handles over sheath-like pockets. As Amy watched, not quite sure what was going on in the Doctor’s Gadfly mind, he began removing chisels, admiring them in turn, then slipping them back into place.

Amy realised that her friend was obviously a complete and total nutjob at last.

“What possible interest could you have in a hammer and some chisels, Doctor?’ She asked derisively, making no attempt to disguise her impatience. ‘I thought you were all… Have Sonic – Will Travel!”

The Time Lord continued to examine the tools admiringly as he answered. “That’s not the point, Pond. A well-made tool is a thing of beauty. And these are in remarkably good condition.’ Returning the last chisel to the appropriate sheath, he rolled up the leather folder again and hefted it appreciatively. “Alright, so I may not personally ever need these, but what if we happen to bump into Michelangelo in our travels? It might be slightly naughty, but I expect he would be over the moon to get his hands on these!”

Amy looked dubiously from the tool-folder to the Doctor, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not, then threw up her arms in surrender. ‘Alright! I’ll go and look like a happy shopper if you insist, since you’re paying.’ However, as she turned to leave him, she couldn’t resist adding. ‘But I don’t see why Michelangelo would find those particularly interesting either – everyone one knows that he uses nunchucks!”

The Doctor blinked, watching Pond moodily glancing at various curios as she sauntered away. He couldn’t shake the mental picture that her words had inspired: the most revered sculptor in Earth’s history assaulting a block of marble, Bruce Lee style. The Time Lord was pretty sure that Pond had been making fun of him, but he didn’t understand the joke.

After re-tying the cords around the leather wallet, the Doctor bounced it in his hand a couple of times then – with a reluctant sigh – replaced it alongside the hammer. Pond was correct, of course. Why would he ever need a hammer and chisel?

“Alrighty then!’ He murmured under his breath, casually retrieving the Sonic from his trouser pocket. ‘Let’s try to narrow this down a bit…’ With most of the screwdriver concealed up his sleeve, so that he only had to hide its end in his palm, the Doctor began moving with slightly more purpose.

 

Although she suspected that the Doctor had some ulterior motive for wanting her to blend in as a casual browser – like getting her out of the way, for example – Amy had decided to play along for the moment. (She could always sneak back and follow him if she got bored.)

Traveling through time wasn’t at all what Amy had expected so far. If anyone had told her that one day she would travel to some far off part of the universe, in some distant future – and walk around a shopping centre – Amy wasn’t sure which part she wouldn’t have believed first! Still, even though most of the items on display were totally incomprehensible, every now and then something caught her eye. After examining a couple of objects – without even needing to feign interest – and trying to work out what they were, Amy was halted in her tracks by an absolutely exquisite sculpture. It was in pride of place in a clear area between the maze-like aisles, and depicted a humanoid figure doing something to some kind of desk before it. (It could have been a computer access point, a spaceship control board, or a musical instrument. Or more likely something else entirely!) What attracted Amy first was the beautiful pseudo Greco-Roman features carved into its face, but as she approached closer she had to pause to consider.

Was it a sculpture? Maybe it was a customer – or possibly even a shop assistant. Trying not to appear rude, (just in case,) Amy studied the immobile face carefully. There was no hint of life in the almond shaped eyes, and the pristine planes of the cheeks were far too precise to be real, surely? Chunky waves of solid hair receded from a perfect forehead, and the entire mask had a metallic sheen of coppery gold, with delineated highlights picked out in a brighter, brassier gold. Having detected no movement (like, for example, breathing.) from the statue so far, Amy turned her attention to the podium it was caressing. On closer examination, it really did look more like a bizarre keyboard than anything else. (Maybe this was a representation of some famous alien composer – but if that was the case, why did its hands look like Marigold washing-up gloves, painted gold?)

As her eyes travelled up from the motionless fingers, Amy found herself leaning further over the sci-fi synthesizer, absolutely stunned at the level of detail in the statues clothing. Even though obviously created from some kind of metal, the composer’s jacket was indistinguishable from actual fabric. It had been sculpted to resemble a kind of padded quilted material, and Amy found herself being drawn closer and closer in stunned admiration. Whoever the artist was that had created this masterpiece, she suspected that even Michelangelo himself would have been grudgingly impressed. Without even realising that she was going to do it, Amy poked a finger into the sculptures chest, just to confirm that her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

“Please do not poke me.” Came a softly mellifluous voice from just above her ear.

“Yipe!” Amy yiped, in a most un-Pond-like fashion, as she threw herself backwards in mortification.

After apologising to a rather startled something that had been innocently passing behind her, Amy turned back to face the owner of the voice. She could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, and she wasn’t at all sure that her heart intended to stay put – not judging from the way it was trying to escape from her chest. However, as she attempted to formulate an apology, Amy noticed that the blank face was regarding her impassively, and the words froze in her throat.

“My apologies.’ said the thing, with no trace of life or movement marring its pristine features. 'I did not mean to startle you.”

There was no evidence of emotion or inflection in the words, but Amy found it deeply unsettling, if not downright creepy. It didn’t seem right that such a beautiful and gentle voice should emerge from such a lifeless visage.

“Erm, w-w-what... I mean, wh-who are you?’ Amy managed to stammer, before adding, ‘I mean, sorry, I thought you were… Um…”

Thankfully as Amy trailed off, unsure how to complete that sentence, a cordial reply was provided in the same blandly singsong tone. “I am UV-7, the last of the Ultra-Voc’s.”

“Ah! Hello! I’m Amy.’ She provided as an introduction, desperately replaying UV-7’s statement in her head. (It sounded the same every time…) Glancing down at the frozen fingers still poised immobile over the keyboard, Amy found herself asking, ‘I don’t suppose you could play ‘Vienna’ for me, could you, UV-7?”

“Certainly, Amy,’ the Ultra-Voc replied emptily. ‘Should you decide to purchase me, I shall play wherever you want.

'Although, I have never heard of that particular planet.”

Amy froze.

“Purchase you?” She asked incredulously.

“Of course, Amy.

'I am a collector’s item."


	14. Chapter 14

The Doctor was finally standing close enough to an unobtrusive door, marked ‘Staff Only’ in a multitude of signage, to be sure that he had found the – whatever.

He was procrastinating furiously, trying to work out how visitors to this shopping centre – which self-evidently catered for a huge variety of species and languages – actually managed to talk to each other. His earlier assumption, which Amy hadn’t allowed him to impress her with, was probably the safest bet. They must use some sort of common tongue, but what? (As the Tardis translated everything into Gallifreyan for him, it was quite difficult to tell what language people were speaking without some sort of clue. Knowledge of where he was, and maybe a handy flag or patch… now that was always helpful!)

In truth, as a travelling Time Lord he had long ago pretty much forgotten about those handy translation circuits, and only really thought about it should he need to break in a new companion or three. But it was incredibly convenient that, wherever he ended up, people understood what he was saying. Take this remarkable place for example: whether they were speaking their own language, or this area’s version of a Lingua Franca, everybody understood him perfectly!

The Doctor frowned to himself, wondering why he felt such a reluctance to try this particular door. He wasn’t entirely sure just how long it had taken to home in on the signal, because he had been uncharacteristically distracted so many times along the way. There was just so much cool stuff in here that he never knew he wanted…

He would be innocently strolling around, surreptitiously waving the concealed Sonic here and there to focus the vibrations it was giving off, when something would leap out screaming, “Look at me! Look at me!”

Being the Doctor, he was far too polite to just ignore the invitation, and so he had spent quite some time… ‘Perusing’.

Added to that, the confusing layout of the place often meant that he had to backtrack, find another way around the maze. The signals from the sonic screwdriver would just be building up nicely, when he would find himself confronted by a wall of, for example, ornate mirrors. (Or possibly transportation portals? The Doctor had decided not to examine these too closely, as he could only see himself from behind – the back of his head, as it were – in them.)

All in all, he imagined that he had been pottering about for quite a while, and had just begun to feel slightly guilty about sending Pond away when he found this door. It didn’t look particularly special, apart from all the ‘Staff Only’ and ‘Keep Out’ signs… maybe.

Still, the Doctor had long ago decided that Keep Out signs didn’t actually apply to him, actually, and he scoffed in the face of any door that said ‘Authorised Personnel Only’. (Given that he was the most authorised person that he had ever met.) He glanced around to confirm that nobody was watching him, then strode up to the door as if he was on official shop business. Taking a firm grip on the archaic handle, he pressed it down confidently and pushed. The door went ‘Clunk’, but failed to do anything else. The Time Lord frowned at it in disapproval, and wondered why the proprietor’s still used such old-fashioned doors, when there were so many high-tech alternatives about. Not only did it look rather out of place, but it seemed to hint at a ‘haves and have-nots’ mentality. (After all, ‘who in their right mind would use an emergency stairwell?’ he could imagine someone saying.)

More to the point, such a primitive lock would be impervious to any clever sonic devices that might happen to be passing by. (Perhaps that was the point, he had to concede.) Then the Doctor grinned to himself and tried pulling the door towards himself instead.

It opened without any protest at all.

Once more checking over his shoulder to make sure that he remained unobserved, the Doctor was about open it further and proceed through, when he was suddenly ambushed by some unexpected mental arithmetic.

(Hmm… One Doctor explores curious phenomena minus one Pond… Equals… One very angry Pond… Hmm…)

Gently pushing the door closed once more, he muttered to himself “Time to find Pond, I think!” as he showed it his back.

 

Deciding that she really didn’t need to be debating the morality of… ‘Buying’ something that was capable of holding an intelligent conversation, Amy had run away. (Well, that’s how it felt to her.) In fairness, she had actually mumbled a polite farewell, explaining that she really needed to find her friend.

UV-7 didn’t appear to give a monkey’s either way, which had alleviated her guilt somewhat.

Unfortunately, as she strode confidently back into the labyrinth, Amy began to suspect that she had picked the wrong aisle. She must have got turned around somehow, but refused to return to the open area. (No way was she going back past that living statue again!)

She would just have to see where her nose took her.

This turned out to be a more complicated proposition than she had anticipated. Turning corners at random, Amy sometimes found objects or displays that she thought she recognised, but as she hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going in the first place… Hmm… Not a lot of help, no clues there.

Fighting down an unexpected urge to run around madly, yelling for the Doctor at the top of her lungs, Amy decided to calmly search for an exit. (That way, she reasoned, she would be able to wait for him outside, at least.) However, she was not entirely sure which direction the way out was anyway, so it wasn’t really any different from wandering about cluelessly. That was probably why she walked into someone around the next turn.

Slightly stunned from the impact (It was a very solid someone!) it took Amy a moment to register what she was seeing. She had walked into the back of a distinctly humanoid looking person, and realised that he was male when he turned to berate her. However, instead of the complaint that she was expecting from his irritated expression, his eyes lit up when he saw her. “Greetings, fellow human!” He said with a huge grin.

“Ah, boiled chicken ovulations! De-licious!” Amy’s tongue replied without taking the time to consult her first. She had no idea where that had come from, and from the way the grin froze on his face, his eyes glazing over slightly, neither did this bloke.

“Er… Boiled chicken ovulations to you too!’ He replied gamely from beneath a slightly pained frown, then he offered apologetically. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been away for a while, my dear. I’m not really up on the lingo these days. But I must say, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

Amy was slightly taken aback by this, but the cleverest response that came to her was, ‘Why?”

The man affected surprise that she needed to ask, gesturing around the visible areas of the bazaar. ‘Well, look around you, my dear. There aren’t a lot of us about!’ As he was speaking, Amy took the opportunity to study him more closely. He was quite a bulky chap, getting on in years, but still with a full head of tightly curled hair. There was quite a lot of grey in it though, so she couldn’t tell what colour it may have originally been. His beard however, appeared to be mostly ginger. (It was styled in a very peculiar fashion, Amy noted, sort of striped down the sides.) ‘Now, I like to consider myself a man of the worlds,’ he was saying, ‘but one can get so tired of the exotic after a while. Don’t you agree?”

Not entirely sure that she did (yet,) Amy changed the subject. “Look, I’m really sorry for bumping into you. I’m trying to find a way out of here…”

“You and me both!” He interrupted with feeling.

“Er… Right. So I guess there isn’t much point in asking you for directions then?” Amy was beginning to feel just a little bit wary of the man. Although his smile remained, there was something vaguely crocodilian about it, and it didn’t appear to reach his eyes. Somehow, he looked like the kind of person that she would end up sitting next to on a bus, because that was the only seat free. (And other people had decided that they would prefer to stand.) And he was much too old to be dressed like a…

“Aargh!’ He suddenly exclaimed, making her jump. ‘The localiser! I totally forgot about it!’ He patted both his hands towards Amy in a placating fashion, explaining. ‘Sorry, you knocked it out of my hands. I was so surprised to see you that I momentarily forgot about it. Don’t go away!' He turned his back on Amy and scanned the floor, then bent down to retrieve something from one of the lower shelves. 'Aha!’ he exclaimed in satisfaction as he stood back up to face her. “Doesn’t seem to have been damaged, they build these pretty tough, thank goodness!

‘Here on your own, are you?”

As he was examining his ‘localiser’ intently, and asked the question is such a casual fashion, it took Amy a second to realise that he was addressing her. “What?’ She asked, intelligently. ‘I mean, why?”

“Well,’ the suddenly shifty looking chap exclaimed casually, tapping various bits on his device, ‘I haven’t had the pleasure of the company of people like myself for quite a while. It would be nice to meet some like individuals!”

Amy wasn’t entirely sure that she was anything like him, but she understood what he meant. Also, she had a vague feeling that telling this weird space hippy that she had a big, strong, companion close by… (Well, it couldn’t hurt, when she thought about it.)

“I’m here with a friend actually’, she offered blithely, ‘He’s around here somewhere. We just got separated ‘cos he wandered off. I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

This got a surreptitious glance from the strange man, before he immediately returned his attention to his ‘localiser’. In an exaggeratedly off-hand fashion, he asked. “Oh really? Big chap is he? Curly blond hair, outrageous taste in apparel?”

Coming from someone dressed in a cross between biker grunge and new romantic, Amy considered this to be a bit rich! (It also seemed that he had been expecting to find someone, out here in the middle of wherever they were – very odd. It reminded her of this visiting American tourist that she had done a Kiss-A-Gram for. When Amy told him that she was Scottish, he had asked if she knew his Great Aunt in ‘Wurcestashire’.) “No.’ Amy replied succinctly, allowing her suspicions free reign. ‘Actually he’s an Ogron called Bar Thing.

‘Really Big. Very strong.

‘Have you ever met an Ogron?”

The space hippy’s shoulders slumped, as if he had genuinely expected a different reply. He looked at her apologetically, thrusting his gadget towards her. “I’m really sorry about this Miss, but I think maybe you did cause this to break after all.”

Amy, who had automatically taken hold of the device when he handed it to her, yelped “What?”

Now that she had a closer look at this ‘localiser’ thingy, it looked pretty much like a big smartphone, with a bunch of other stuff glued on to make it look more interesting. “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, unsure whether to feel guilty or angry.

“Just look into the screen for me, my dear.’ oozed the stranger. ‘Tell me what you can see, to double-check it for me, you understand?’ Amy complied, not really sure what she was supposed to be looking for. Suddenly a small panel on the object began to glow, and vague patterns began to coalesce at the edge of her awareness. The man carried on talking, his voice becoming soothing and friendly as he tapped a few keys on the device. ‘If you could just describe what pictures you can see, I will be able to calibrate the differentials more accurately.’ A note of warning shaded his next words. ‘But whatever you do, don’t press that button!”

“What button?” Amy asked predictably, fascinated by the patterns that she could almost see on the screen.

“This one, my dear.’ Answered the man, illustrating his comment by pressing the button in question. As Amy froze in place, he looked at her regretfully, then gently retrieved his gadget. ‘Sorry, Love. I’ve only wiped your short-term memory. You’ll be as right as Grotzit’s in no time, promise.’ He stared at the petrified girl thoughtfully for a few moments, then began searching through the shelves beside him. Seeing something that might suffice for his purpose, he tucked the localiser into his belt, then gently placed a viewing device into the young woman’s hands.

Studying this arrangement with satisfaction, he nodded to himself, about to turn away: then he gasped. “Hang about! I didn’t think to ask about the little one with the umbrella!’ He clutched some hair in his hand, almost looking as if he intended to pull out a clump, then drew the hand back to eye level, gazing at it in horror. The hand, indeed his entire arm, seemed to be fading out of existence! “No! Not yet!’ He cried in anguish. ‘I haven’t found him yet!”

And then he was gone.

Amy, oblivious, was as still as UV-7

 

That was how the Doctor found her a short while later. Totally stationary, staring transfixed into the screen of some sort of entertainment device.

Now that he knew where the signal was coming from, the Time Lord had dispensed with the Sonic, switching it off and tucking it safely away in a breast pocket. (He wasn’t entirely sure why Pond had smacked his bum, but it was obvious that she found his scientific inclinations rather irritating.)

So he had both hands free when he found her. Clapping them each onto a separate shoulder, he leant forward and whispered “Boo!”

There was absolutely no response.

Suddenly concerned, the Time Lord contorted himself so that he could look into her face, then glance down at the screen she was studying.

It appeared to be a documentary about static.

Now deeply worried, the Doctor swiveled Pond about to face him, removing the display device from her worryingly limp grip. “Pond!’ he hissed urgently, snapping his fingers before her eyes. ‘Doctor to Pond! Are you receiving me?”

She blinked, shook her head woozily, and then leapt back with a “Wha..?” as she registered his close proximity. The Doctor gripped his friend tightly so that she wouldn’t fall over, and smiled his most reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Pond, everything is okay!’

He released her as she struggled to regain her equilibrium, and continued. ‘I’m awfully sorry, Pond. It didn’t occur to me that any of the items in here might be dangerous. Not the kind of thing one expects really, is it?

Pond looked at him groggily and groaned, rubbing her forehead. “What did you do to me, Doctor?” She asked blearily.

“Me?” Yelped the Doctor, then rallied in indignation. ‘I didn’t do anything! What’s the last thing you can remember?”

Pond frowned for a few moments, unconsciously patting at her hair, then gave him a look of deep confusion before asking, “Does the word ‘Ultravox’ mean anything to you, Doctor?”

“No,’ the Time Lord replied, perfectly honestly, ‘this means nothing to me. Do you feel well enough to do a little more investigating, Pond? I’ve found out where we need to look next!”

As he had hoped, the prospect of some action perked his friend up markedly, and by the time he had managed to direct them back to the door, Pond was peppering him with questions once more. As the Doctor didn’t know the answers, he chose to change the subject. He explained in greatly exaggerated terms just what he had discovered. (‘A door? Big deal!’) Then patiently restrained Pond from racing through it until he was sure there were no unwanted witnesses.

The Doctor also made sure to enter the – well, presumably it was a storage room, but he was open to being proved wrong – first, cautioning his companion to give him a couple of seconds. Naturally, Pond totally ignored this advice, closing the door behind her as she entered. This proved unfortunate for the Doctor, as it cut off the light, and he tripped over something before his eyes had time to adjust. Fortunately he managed to keep his balance and, muttering imprecations under his breath, he continued into the gloom.

There was no sense of transition, but the Doctor was suddenly convinced that he was somewhere else.

He stopped walking so abruptly that Pond actually walked into his back, much to her annoyance. “Hey! What’s the big idea, Doctor?’ She asked crossly, steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder. ‘You knew I was right behind you!”

“Hush, Pond,’ he cautioned, squinting around the dim surroundings, ‘Didn’t you feel that?”

“Yes, I did!’ The peeved young woman replied as she rubbed her nose, making zero effort to lower her voice. ‘And it was bloody painful, too!”

The Doctor turned around to face his friend apologetically. Giving Pond his full attention for a moment, he gripped her shoulders firmly. “Sorry about that, but something has changed… Look around, Pond! Can you see anything different about this place?’ (His voice was an urgent undertone.) ‘I don’t know why, but I don’t think that we’re where we were anymore!”

Amy obediently took a slow scan around for herself, trying to peer into the dark recesses of the place. As far as she could see (which wasn’t all that far, to be honest!) they were still in the middle of the storeroom that they had just walked into. (Where else would they be?) Although her eyes were slowly beginning to adjust to the low lighting, she could still only see various shelves and storage containers on the periphery. Mysterious dark shapes lurked in a confused array across the floor. With a shrug, Amy turned back to the shadowy Doctor and quipped airily. “Sorry, Toto! As far as I can tell, we’re still in Kansas… so the Wicked Witch must still be alive!”

The Doctor (to Amy’s delight!) appeared profoundly taken aback, performing a classic double-take before leaning in closer. He peered intently into her eyes – possibly checking for concussion – then dismissed the comment with an irritated wave of his hand. “Never mind all that, Pond! Something distinctly odd just happened, I can feel it…”

“In your water?” Amy interrupted, cheekily. (She was obviously beginning to feel herself again, thought the Doctor. Luckily, he didn’t suggest that to Pond herself.)

He just ignored her instead, casting intently about the gloomy space. (Even his puzzled frown and wagging forefinger failed to make him look less like a hound on the scent.) “Follow me, Pond.’ He abruptly instructed, pointing decisively to his left, before doubling back on himself and walking in the opposite direction. ‘And try not to trip over anything!”

Amy was tempted to just ignore him in turn, but relented with an exasperated sigh. However, she took care to stay well back, as the Doctor was darting from one shelf to another, occasionally stopping to examine the odd item or two more closely. (Some of them very odd!) As he passed what looked – at least to Amy – suspiciously like a freezer unit, he… well… froze.

“Tell me, Pond. Are we agreed that we are in a storage room, at the back of a shop?”

“Well… yeah.”

He turned slowly towards the freezer and studied it closely, tapping a finger against his lips thoughtfully. “And what kind of shop was it, the one that we just left?”

“Er, it’s an Antiques and Curio’s shop, just like you said, unless I’m very much mistaken – but I don’t think I am.”

The Doctor was nodding in agreement as she spoke, reaching to grip the freezer’s lid. “Indeed, Pond. I thought so too. So why would an Antiques shop need a freezer, hmmm?’ He opened the unit with a flourish and was starkly lit by the glow from within. He studied the contents in silence for a couple of seconds, then raised one hand to fiddle with his tie, turning a slightly queasy smile towards her. ‘Ah…” He explained.

“So what’s in there?’ Amy asked nervously, feeling absolutely no inclination to take a look for herself. ‘A dead body?”

The Doctor looked back into the freezer, the harsh glare lending a slightly greenish pallor to his skin. “Er… Sort of…’ He waved his head about sinuously, as if trying to observe the contents from all possible angles, then tossed an unconvincingly cheerful grin in Amy’s direction. ‘Well, actually, it’s more sort of, er… ‘Food items’, I suppose you could say. I’m not entirely sure – but there appear to quite a lot of, um… Squished mouse’s.

'Bit unusual for an Antique shop, wouldn’t you say?’

Amy didn’t feel any need to respond to that, so simply shrugged as she backed further away. ‘In fact,’ the Doctor continued, ‘the only person that I have ever heard refer to ‘squished mouse’s’ is…”

“Bar Thing? That Ogron nutter we met when we first arrived?’ Amy interrupted, ‘Why would he have a freezer so far from his place? “

“Ah, but that’s the thing, isn’t it Pond?’ The Time Lord agreed, frowning furiously into the unit as if it might contain an answer. ‘He wouldn’t, would he? Unless this Shopping Centre has some seriously strange topography.' Straightening up as he closed the lid on the freezer, the Doctor peered intently over Amy’s shoulder. “No, I think this must be something to do with that odd shifting sensation I felt just now. I wonder…’

Amy turned around to follow his gaze, and could quite clearly see the outline of the door through which they had just entered. Bright illumination from the shop beyond teasing through the slight gap around the frame, it beckoned enticingly. ‘What if… What if there is more in play here than some peculiar temporal displacement? Perhaps there is an element of spatial distortion involved, as well!”

Amy tried to work out how that was supposed to make any sense, then snorted as she realised what he meant. “Oh come off it, Doctor! You don’t seriously think that we’re suddenly back at The Happy Ogron, do you?”

She felt him come to stand beside her, placing a hand on the small of her back to prompt her forward. “Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there, Pond?’ He asked, propelling her back towards the doorway with gentle insistence. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll go through first!”


	15. Chapter 15

PHASE TWO

As the Doctor stepped past her to reach for the door handle, the incongruity of the situation suddenly struck Amy. “Hang on a minute! How come they have doors with plain old handles, when there's all that space age futury stuff about?”

The Time Lord looked back at her as he gripped the archaic artifact, appearing slightly exasperated, and asked. “Really? That’s all you can think of to ask? I suppose that they just don’t bother with all the new-fangled stuff in areas that aren’t used much by the general public.” Then he leant down decisively on the handle and turned to walk through.

Only to smash his face into the door as it remained obstinately closed. He turned back and grinned sheepishly at Pond. “Ah, there you are, you see – just as I suspected! This door opens in the opposite direction to the one that we just came through!”

There was a slightly nasal quality to his voice, which Amy tried to politely ignore, but she couldn’t help smirking inside. (‘Serves him right!’ she thought smugly.) The Doctor motioned for her to stand back a little, and cautiously tried opening the door towards himself. This time it moved easily. As he carefully stepped around the now open door, he tossed Amy a ‘follow me’ nod, looking inordinately chuffed with himself for some reason. (Although he did wince slightly as he was met by the wall of alien Musak!)

They were, indeed, back at The Happy Ogron. This time they were behind the counter, Amy noted, but she found her attention drawn to all the activity visible through the wall-length transparency beyond. It was fascinating to see all the comings and goings of the tourists’ and shoppers, not to mention the variety of unrecognizable beings enjoying a snack just outside!

Meanwhile, the Doctor had noticed the presence of Bar Thing at the far end of the counter. The Ogron was tinkering with the ersatz espresso machine that had so vexed him earlier, so the Time Lord grabbed Pond by an arm to hurry her along. (Poor girl appeared to be daydreaming!) “Come along, Pond. I want to ask Bar Thing some questions, and you’re my backup!’ he whispered exuberantly.

Not noticing that his freind seemed unusually quiet, the Doctor dragged Pond along – until he was close enough to make himself heard over the musak (and the espresso machine!) “Hello, Bar Thing! I would like to ask you some questions – if you’re not too busy!”

He found himself suddenly forced to jump back with a yelp of alarm, as the colourfully dressed Ogron swung round on him, looking just a tad more frightening than before! “Who you?’ Bar Thing bellowed. ‘Customers not allowed behind bar!’ Then a (very) slow frown of confusion began to struggle across his forehead, before he asked, slightly less terrifyingly, ‘How you know name?”

The Doctor, totally surprised by this unexpected response, had found himself leaning away from Bar Thing, holding his arms out behind himself to protect Pond. Somewhat dumbfounded by the last question, he craned his head around as far as he could and hissed from the corner of his mouth. “How do I know his name?”

He had actually been asking for clarification of the Ogron’s odd behavior, but Amy had other things on her mind, so she hissed in return. “Name badge!” Then she resumed goggling out of the window, trying to figure out if she was really seeing… What she thought she was seeing.

“Name badge?” the Doctor asked Pond incredulously, then turned back to see if he could get any more sense out of Bar Thing.

The Ogron was looking down at his badge, buffing it fondly and nodding at the explanation. He was almost smiling as he looked back at the intrusive customer, but then he remembered to be annoyed. “Still not allowed behind bar!”

By now Amy had started to tug violently on the Doctor’s arm, desperately demanding his attention. As he was in the midst of trying to get back into Bar Thing’s good books, the Doctor was a bit put out, to say the least. “Excuse me a moment, please, Bar Thing! I’m sure I will be able to sort this all out soon!’

Turning to face the annoying girl, he demanded, ‘can’t you see I’m busy, Pond! What’s your problem?”

“It’s us!” Amy explained, sounding rather frantic.

“Look, I know you’re upset with me, Pond, but is this really the time?”

“No, you idiot! We’re not the problem – they are!”

“Who is?”

“Us!”

The Doctor leaned away from her uncertainly. He appeared to be running through this perplexing conversation in his head, unconsciously mouthing the words whilst tapping a finger on the bridge of his nose. Remembering Bar Thing suddenly, he turned and gave the Ogron a finger wave over his shoulder. With an apologetic smile, he mouthed ‘be with you in a moment.’

Facing his fiery companion once more, the Doctor took a deep breath, then admitted.

“No. Sorry, Pond. Didn’t understand a word of that.

‘Could we try again?

 ‘What is the problem?”

“We are, Doctor!’ Amy hotly retorted, by now thoroughly exasperated.

“But… But… We’re perfectly alright! …Bar Thing aside, of course, I don’t see any problem!”

“That’s because you’re looking in the wrong place!’ By now she had lost all patience, so Amy physically yanked the Doctor’s head around to face the window, then pointed with a shaking finger. ‘We’re out there as well!”

Although she had heard it said many times, Amy had never actually seen anyone’s jaw drop before. “Ah…’ croaked the Doctor, as he finally focused on the familiar couple standing outside. ‘Not good! Very, very, very not good! We have to get out of here, Pond!”

The Doctor actually tried to bustle Amy back towards the door to the storeroom, until a meaty paw clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him cold. “Not allowed back there! Not for customers! Already said!” Bar Thing reminded him aggressively.

If she hadn’t been feeling so concerned herself, Amy might have found the Doctor’s look of panic amusing. He seemed to dance a frantic little jig, alternately staring from Bar Thing, to the window, to Amy herself. Then he visibly pulled himself together, shrugged off the Ogron’s grip by casually adjusting his jacket, and clapped his hands together loudly.

“Right then, Bar Thing, me Old Mucker! I told you that I would explain everything, didn’t I?’ He asked, grinning manically up at the Ogron, and thrust his chin out as if it was fully loaded. “All-righty then! Two… um… Friends of ours are about to enter your fine establishment, and we don’t want them to know that we are here! It’s a surprise, you see!

‘Now, since you won’t let us hide out the back, we will just have to hide behind the counter here!’

Bar Thing looked deeply confused – or perhaps just unconvinced – by this rapid-fire explanation.

‘But whatever you do,’ the Doctor raced on desperately, ‘don’t tell our friends that we are here! We don’t want them to know that we’re here, okay? It’s a surprise, you understand?”

The Doctor grinned his relieved thanks as Bar Thing nodded uncertainly, then he motioned for Pond to crouch down behind the counter with him. As he helped her settle comfortably on the floor, he placed a finger to his lips portentiously, before sinking down to seat himself. From the other side of the counter, over the mildly irritating drone of Musak, voices could suddenly be heard.

“Welcome to The Happy Ogron! We hope you enjoy your visit!”

“I can see why everyone is eating outside! Hey! What’s your game?”

“Ah, allow me, Pond! No, thank you, we won’t be needing a table just yet. We’ll be quite happy at the bar.”

Scrunched behind the counter, Amy gawped in frank astonishment at the Doctor, as a look of horror distorted his features. His teeth were bared in a rictus grimace, and he appeared to be trying to tell her something using only his eyes. When she realised that he was indicating over her shoulder, Amy swiveled around a bit, only to get the fright of her life! Bar Thing was crouched down behind her, almost face to face, as he was hunching his shoulders to fit behind the counter.

“It’s quite a clever system, when you think about it.’ She could hear from the other side of the bar. ‘Given the variety of customers you’ll get in such a cosmopolitan environment, it makes sense to have an eating surface that can adjust its own height.’ Amy swiveled back to the Doctor, who was making frantic ‘Do Something!’ gestures with his hands. ‘Funny though, I could have sworn that I saw someone at the bar, but the place seems deserted now.”

“What do you think you are doing?” Amy whisper/hissed incredulously to the squatting Ogron.

Bar Thing looked puzzled at first, and then slightly hurt. “Hiding!” he managed to almost whisper, by breathing through his teeth.

“You can’t hide, you great lunk! You’ve got customers to serve!”

As if in confirmation, they all heard. “You know, from inside you can’t even tell that the glass is mirrored!”

Bar Thing hit himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand – evidently a universal gesture – then grinned at Amy sheepishly.  Shaking his head ruefully, he rapidly hauled himself upright, laughing as he stood. “Huhr, hurh, hurh!”

“Yaaarrgh! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Came a startled response from beyond.

Bar Thing appeared stumped for a moment, then grinned. “Is surprise!”

“What is? Pretending to be an eight foot tall jack-in-a-box, and scaring the living daylights out of your customers?”

Listening to this altercation with growing horror, Amy glared at the Doctor and mouthed, ‘do I really sound like that?’ The Doctor shrugged in an almost embarrassed fashion, waggling his hands in a gesture that meant nothing to her. At least she had the satisfaction of watching him wince, as an overly cheerful voice declared…

“Now then, Pond, I’m sure that he didn’t mean any harm! Remember what I was telling you about Ogron’s? Perhaps I should do the ordering for both of us…”

Bar Thing, who had been following the exchange closely, said “Sorry, Miss,’ somewhat sheepishly. ‘Bar Thing not mean to scare!” He looked contritely at his latest customer’s, apparently having totally forgotten the Amy and Doctor hiding behind the counter.

“Ah! Like the hat!’ Came a slightly uncertain exclamation, then…

‘Ooh! And a bow tie as well… bow ties are cool!”

On the floor, Amy rolled her eyes at this latest comment, miming a snigger into her hands; but the Doctor was watching Bar Thing’s response to his own earlier comments, so didn’t notice. The massive bartender was proudly adjusting the tilt of his pink top hat, grinning hugely.

“Is good, yes? Is Happy Ogron uniform! I Bar Thing! How I help?”

Much to her surprise, Amy found herself sharing an amused smile with the Doctor at this, and he leaned towards her to cup a hand around her ear. “I don’t think they will hear us over the ambient noise, if we whisper!’ He whispered. ‘Well, we didn’t hear us, did we?” She found this rather disconcerting, because at the same time the earlier Doctor was saying…

“Erm… I hadn’t really thought about what we might want, actually. How about you, Pond. See anything you fancy? 

‘…To drink, Pond! What do you want to drink?”

Amy mimicked her Doctor’s ear-cupping manoeuvre, and hissed. “Well, I know I couldn’t hear much over that excuse for a coffee machine!”

Right on cue, earlier Amy said. “Does that do coffee, Bar Thing?”

“Yes…’

“Then I’ll have…”

‘But is broke.’ Bar Thing continued, steamrollering over the interruption. ‘Can’t fix!

‘Bar Thing very angry! Fixer not come yet!”

“Oh! Well in that case…’

Both the Doctor and ‘now’ Amy found their attention drawn inexorably up towards the packed shelves as ‘then’ Amy asked. “What’s in that purple bottle that won’t stop jiggling about?” The container really did seem to be quite agitated – upset even! Amy couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to enquire about it in the first place!

Particularly when Bar Thing announced enthusiastically. “Pickled Glurblesnogs! Don’t sell much…

‘You first person to ask!

‘Want some?”

Amy noticed the Doctor trying to stifle uproarious laughter (or at least pretend to,) as she heard herself say. “Um, I’ll just have a bottle of water, Bar Thing. Thanks.’ She glared at him, and mimed punching a fist into her palm. ‘How about you, Doctor?” Other Amy continued.

Seizing the opportunity, Amy grabbed the Doctor’s ear – none too gently – and whispered. “I don’t know what you’re laughing at, Pal! As I recall, you’re just about to hear how stupid you sound to other people sometimes!” (Naturally, she wasn’t wrong…)

“Well, I’ve always liked the sound of a Sarsaparilla, but I’m not entirely sure what it is. Do I like Sarsaparilla, Pond?

‘It sounds like something I would like! Sarsaparilla! It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?

‘Saaaarsaparillaaaa!

‘Yes!

‘I think I’ll have a Sarsaparilla please, Bar Thing!”

“Not got.” Bar Thing, having followed this performance as if hypnotized, looked slightly shell-shocked to Amy. She leaned back with her hands on the floor and gave the Doctor a ‘told you so!’ smirk. To her surprise, the Time Lord was looking at her in abject horror! He started dithering about, looking uncommonly unsure of himself, as Amy mouthed ‘What?’ at him urgently. The Doctor was actually biting his fingernails as he looked up at the counter, and they both heard the order…

“Ah… So, that’s two bottles of water then, Bar Thing, if you would be so kind!”

Suddenly Amy experienced pain like never before, as Bar Thing stepped on the fingers of one of her hands. Her startled ‘Yeeeek!’ of agony was abruptly cut off, as the Doctor lunged forwards to clamp a hand over her mouth; then shook his head emphatically at the Ogron, who looked like he might be about to apologise! The Time Lord looked deep into Pond’s tearing eyes as she clasped her injured hand to her chest, and they heard…

“What was that, Bar Thing?”

“Mouse’s!” The bartender improvised – apparently on the spur of the moment.

“Not bad for an Ogron, Pond," the Doctor hissed into Pond’s ear, trying to take her pain into himself, hugging away her writhing agony. 

“You have mouse’s’ – I mean – mice here? Don’t you have Health and Safety in this place?”

"Please try to keep as quiet as possible, Pond! I know it hurts, but if we actually discover ourselves here…"

“Not for mouse’s’! Bar Thing squish!”

"Well, I’m not entirely sure what would happen, but it’s probably best not to find out!” His friend was rocking back and forth in his arms now, tears streaming down her face, but Pond was one of the bravest people he had ever met. He hugged her even tighter, as she nodded her understanding.

“It must have been quite a big mouse…”

“Ogron mouse’s’!” Bar Thing explained, leaning conspiratorially on the bar.

The Doctor ignored the angry comment – “I’ll get us a table outside – you can deal with this nut-job!” Instead, he tried to comfort the Pond in pain, whispering softly.

“It won’t be much longer now, Pond, I promise. I’m sure that I must have something on me that will help! I’ll have you as right as rain in no time – double promise!”

Amy just folded herself deeper into her ‘Raggedy Man’s embrace, as the door chimed out, “Thank you for your custom! Please visit us again soon!” She had dreamt of being held like this for longer that she liked to consider – but getting her fingers crushed by an eight-foot tall moron… Well, for some reason that had never figured prominently in her fantasies! She was almost tempted to take a bite out of the hand the Doctor had clamped across her mouth – to see just how quiet he could be! But she settled for soaking up the obvious concern he was radiating, and trying to wish the pain away.

“Why so glum, Bar Thing?”

“Door more stupid than Ogron! Talks all time… say’s nothing!

She hadn’t heard any of this before, but Amy didn’t really care what they were saying any more. She could sense the big Ogron moving about behind her, dutifully going about his business.

“You want glass, or drink from bottle? Is chilled!” Bar Thing asked his remaining customer, seemingly oblivious to any other distractions.

“Ah, I think the bottles will be fine – then we can take them with us if we decide to wander!

‘But perhaps we could have a couple of straws?”

“Not long now, Pond…” The Doctor murmured gently, watching Bar Thing reach down for the requested straws, looking oddly graceful now that he was being a barman. Obviously this was what he was used to. Despite any other oddities surrounding the situation, the Ogron knew his job.

“Want eats?’ Bar Thing asked automatically. (First Rule: Get customer to spend more money!) ‘Special of today is…”

“Let me guess… Squished mouse’s?”

The big bartender seemed genuinely surprised. “How you know?”

“Oh, you know how it is, Bar Thing, just a shot in the dark! Now then, what do I owe…?”

Suddenly, an unworldly shriek split the air.

Amy’s eyes widened in surprise, and she shook her face free of the Doctor’s grip. “You heard that in here?’ She hissed in his ear. ‘I thought this place was soundproofed or something! It never occurred to me to ask how you heard it before!”

She could feel the Time Lord’s shrug in his muted reply. “I don’t think it was an actual sound, when we heard it then. Or now… Not yet, anyway!” Before Amy could even begin to process that comment, she heard…

“Didn’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Asked the deeply puzzled Ogron. Then he reared back in surprise, as the mad customer yelled, “Pond!” directly into his face.

Amy stared at the Doctor with huge eyes when she then heard the door bellow. “Thank you for your custom! Please visit us again soon!” But the Doctor just smiled distractedly back, more intent on studying the state of her injured hand. He actually seemed quite relieved at what he found, but Amy still couldn’t summon up the courage to look!  

“Hey! Where you go?’ Bar Thing suddenly roared, sounding dangerously annoyed. ‘You not pay for drinks!”

The Doctor helped his slightly shaky companion to her feet, as she protested, “But what if we come back? We’ll see us!”

“But we didn’t, did we, Pond?’ He reassured her. ‘Now, you may find this surprising, but as much as it must have hurt, I don’t think there is any permanent damage to your fingers…”

The big Ogron bartender had started on first seeing them, then began switching his attention between the Doctor and Amy he could see outside, and the ones standing right next to him. Coming to a rapid conclusion, he turned towards the couple still in his bar. “You not pay for drinks!” He growled accusingly.

“Oh be quiet, you big bully!’ The agitated Time Lord shouted in exasperation, ‘can’t you see that Pond is hurt!’ Ignoring the bartender after this admonishment, the Doctor began searching through his pockets feverishly. ‘Aha!’ He shouted in triumph, as he produced a sweet from his pocket. ‘Try this, Pond! Just let me unwrap it for you!”

“That looks like a mint humbug!”

“It is a mint humbug!”

“Well, what use it that then?” Amy wailed.

Looking a little crestfallen, the Doctor said, “I thought you might like the flavour…”

Bar Thing had been watching all of this intently, an expression of guilt and remorse slowly creeping across his face. He had just remembered stepping on the pretty ladies hand. “Please, Miss!’ he offered tentatively, ‘Bar Thing sorry again. I help… Please?”

Amy turned angrily on the great brute, intending to ask if he didn’t think he’d done quite enough already – until she saw the look on his face. The Ogron was holding his hand out towards her, the contrition and appeal in his eyes making him look much less like a ‘moron’ than Amy felt comfortable with. She shot a quizzical glance at the Doctor, who just shrugged, looking as mystified as she felt. “Um, how can you help, exactly, Bar Thing?” The Time Lord asked, without even consulting Amy.

“Ogron’s hurt all time.’ Was the surprising reply. ‘Got quick fix!’ He once again offered his hand to Amy, making some kind of ‘come here’ gesture before continuing. ‘Please! Show me hurt! Let Bar Thing fix – please?”

After glancing once again at the Doctor – who was absolutely no help at all, simply giving her another shrug – Amy tentatively offered the Ogron her hand. It almost disappeared in his meaty paw, but he grasped it with a tenderness that surprised her. Simultaneously lowering his head as he raised her hand, Bar Thing looked as if he intended to kiss it. (Not the kind of Prince Charming that little Amelia had ever dreamt about!)

To her further alarm, he promptly popped her hand into his mouth and began sucking her fingers, at the same time rolling his tongue around them gently.  Amy’s initial inclination was to whip her hand away in horror, until she noticed that the throbbing pain in her abused fingers was rapidly fading away. Much to her annoyance, she realised that the Doctor was observing this performance in absolute fascination!

Although the notion of having her fingers sucked by this Neanderthal made Amy feel quite nauseated, the actual sensations – not to mention the cessation of her pain – were not actually unpleasant. When, with his other hand, Bar Thing reached for a (reassuringly familiar looking) paper napkin; wrapping it around her fingers when he removed them from his mouth – Amy almost felt disappointed!

“Not take off yet. Wait until fingers dry!” He instructed her, carefully patting her hand. (Somehow, Amy just couldn’t picture Dr. Prestwick saying something like that! However, she had to admit that Bar Thing’s ‘treatment’ had been effective!)

“It doesn’t hurt anymore!” She exclaimed to the Doctor, showing her papier mache’d hand to the astonished Time Lord.

“Wow! I didn’t know Ogron’s could do that!’ He blurted in disbelief. Then looking up at Bar Thing, he dived into his pockets once again. “Sorry old chap, nearly forgot – you haven’t been paid for those drinks yet, have you?”

“Not problem!’ the bartender assured him, casually picking a rather startled Pond up by the waist: before depositing her on a barstool on the other side of the counter. ‘For you, Miss, drinks on house!”

Amy was amused by the Doctor’s sudden agility as he launched himself over the counter, before Bar Thing could offer him any assistance! He managed to land squarely on a stool without any apparent discomfort, before spinning around to face the bar. “That’s very kind of you, Bar Thing!” He enthused gratefully, reaching for the bottles of water.

However, Amy – who was feeling much more kindly disposed towards the hulking Ogron now – didn’t feel quite so comfortable about this largesse. With her free hand she yanked out the wodge of ‘paper’ money the Doctor had provided earlier, slapping it down on the counter.

“Oh no, Bar Thing, we can’t accept that! Is there any money here that you can use?”

“No need, Miss!’ the bartender protested, ‘is okay, is true!”

“Then consider it a present!’ Amy insisted, pushing the entire stack in his direction. “I really don’t think I will be needing it, is true!”

“Is present? For me?’ Bar Thing gasped, clearly not accustomed to such consideration. His gargantuan chest swelled (even more) visibly, and he beamed at her happily. ‘Thank you, Miss!”

The Doctor, who had been watching this exchange with benevolent amusement, winked at Pond as he handed her a bottle. “You big softy, you! Come along, I think we are safely out of sight now, so we shouldn’t bump into ourselves, if we’re quick!’

So saying, he hopped off his stool and began sauntering towards the doorway, belatedly turning to dash off a quick ‘and thank you, Bar Thing! It was real!”

Amy slid off her own bar stool slightly less elegantly, but made sure to thank the bartender herself – he was surveying his new (and rather small, she had to admit,) pile of currency with pride. He managed to return his attention to his all-time-favourite-customer, however: nearly blinding her with a dazzling display of teeth as he rumbled, “You welcome, Miss!”

Feeling distinctly happier than she had for some time, Amy turned her back on the bartender, and caught up with the Doctor.

So she didn’t notice when – looking as if he still couldn’t quite believe his good fortune – the Ogron peeled a couple of notes from his stack, stuffed them into his mouth… and began chewing contentedly.


	16. Chapter 16

As they emerged cautiously into the open-plan eating area again, the first thing that Amy noticed was the little teddy bear. It was tugging energetically on the furry arm of a much larger bear, and pointing at them frantically. The Doctor, who had been trying to act all nonchalant (whilst looking around carefully for any sign of their previous selves,) nearly swallowed his straw when Mummy Bear exclaimed. “Goodness me! I don’t wish to be rude, good people – but how did you do that!”

Deciding to leave the explanations to the expert, Amy started to suck determinedly on her own straw, trying to pretend that she didn’t actually know the Doctor. (He was coughing and spluttering helplessly.) Patting his chest with his spare hand, the Time Lord raised watering eyes to Mummy Bear and choked, “I (cough) beg (cough) your pardon?”

“I just saw the two of you walk away over there.’ The matronly looking stuffed toy declared, disengaging her arm from Baby Bear to point past the central pool. ‘At least, I think it was you… I’m afraid I’m not very good at telling aliens apart – I do apologise.” The littlest bear looked about to comment but, with a mother’s unerring accuracy, she stuffed another lollipop into its mouth without even taking her gaze from the Doctor.

“Ah, yes, well…’ the Time Lord prevaricated, desperately playing for time until inspiration struck. ‘Well, it’s a bit embarrassing really!’ He abruptly declared, grinning self-deprecatingly. ‘You see, not only did we forget our drinks…’ He held up his evidence, giving the bottle a quick shake. ‘But I suddenly realised that I hadn’t even paid for them!’ He approached the hirsute party and lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but we are Centre Security officers, so we cheated a little and used our P.T.D.’s…”

“What’s a P.T.D.?” Asked an enthralled Mummy Bear.

“Personal Transmat Device.’ He tapped a finger to the side of his nose and winked, before adding. ‘I mean, it wouldn’t look very good if Centre Security were found to be skipping out on their bills, would it?’ The Doctor paused dramatically for a moment, glancing around with exaggerated caution, then leant closer to her and murmured. ‘I do hope that we can trust to your discretion in this matter, Madam?”

Amy exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Baby Bear over her water. It seemed almost as impressed with this remarkable explanation as she was!

“Oh, you can rely on us!’ Mummy Bear assured the Doctor, thrilled to have a secret. ‘Can’t they, dear!” She nudged an even rounder Teddy sitting next to her.

“Can’t talk. Eating.” It mumbled around a mouthful of food, already raising another helping towards its maw.

“Splendid! Splendid!’ The Doctor announced cheerfully, then added, ‘We hope that you enjoy your day out at the Best Shopping Centre in the Universe!

‘Let’s leave these good people to enjoy their meal in peace, Officer Pond, and continue with our…

‘What are you doing?”

Actually, Amy had been trying to entice her table to come back down. It still seemed like a good idea to get a map of this place, if at all possible, but the table didn’t want anything to do with her. She explained this to the Doctor – quietly – as she took the initiative, leading him away from The Happy Ogron. “A map?’ he asked her, equally quietly. ‘What do you need a map for when you’ve got me?”

“Look, Doctor. I only chose to walk this way, because we just went in the opposite direction! I have no idea where we’re going, or what’s going on! Do you?”

Taking a healthy draw through his straw to delay answering, the Doctor swooshed water around his teeth noisily, as if it was mouthwash. After a few moments of bulging cheeks and thoughtful frowning, he swallowed, then admitted, ‘Sorry, Pond. Haven’t got a clue… All I can tell you is that whatever is happening, it’s temporal in nature, as I have been saying all along. Bit obvious, I know, but all we have to go on so far is…

‘What do we have to go on so far?”

A bit thrown by the question, Amy glanced back in the direction they had originally left The Happy Ogron. “Well, we know that we heard that ‘something’, and went off to investigate. Then we ended up back with Bar Thing before we had even arrived in the first place! Does that about cover it?

‘Oh, yeah.’ She added as an afterthought. ‘And you said you didn’t know what would happen if we met ourselves. I thought a Time Lord would at least have a theory!”

By now they were passing what appeared to be either a Travel Agent’s, or an Estate Agent’s with some extraordinarily exotic properties. Amy was doing her best to look everywhere at once, but still heard the Doctor’s reply clearly. “Well, this may surprise you, Pond, but I was rather concerned about you meeting… Um… You! I don’t think it’s ever happened to one of my travelling companions before…” He trailed off rather uncertainly.

“Hang about.’ Amy demanded, swinging her head back to him again. ‘Are you saying that you have met yourself before?”

The Time Lord waggled his bottle of water in a ‘sort of’ gesture. “It’s a bit complicated. I have, but I haven’t – at least, not so far – and I would kind of like to avoid doing so.”

“No, totally not with you, Doctor.” Amy threw in quickly.

“Look, I told you about the other me’s – ‘

“Oh, don’t start all that again!”

“Hear me out, Pond. It could be important. Okay, well, some of them met each other – I told you earlier about The Death Zone – and there were other occasions as well. But only under the most extreme circumstances, and with the aid of the Time Lords. However, on all those occasions, they were each different regenerations. Different me’s. I have never heard of any Time Lord meeting themselves in the same regeneration! The results could be catastrophic!

‘Personally, I would rather not find out. Not just yet, anyway.”

“Alright,’ Amy conceded grudgingly. ‘I guess that makes some sort of sense.’ Then she perked up, as the seemingly obvious answer occurred to her.  ‘Well, we know where we’ve been, don’t we? So we just avoid going there again, right?”

The Doctor looked thoughtfully at her. Or rather, Amy realised abruptly, she just happened to standing where his eyes were pointing. Just before it became too unnerving, he snapped out of his reverie and ‘saw’ her. (He actually seemed a bit surprised!)

“Ah! Pond! So sorry. I was just running over our movements to date. I’m afraid that it may not be as simple as you make it sound. Not if we are to get to the bottom of this.’ Amy glared at him, wondering if he was trying to make some sort of joke at her expense. (He didn’t notice.) Turning to look back the way they had come, the Doctor began pointing in various directions as he spoke. ‘As far as we know, everything started happening – to us, at least – after we heard that scream, possibly time-shifted. We went to investigate, and visited the Sontaran’s showroom, that very peculiar supermarket, and the Antiques shop…. Market… Whatever. Then we found ourselves back in The Happy Ogron.”

“Yeah. So?” Amy asked, trying not to sound too annoyed. (Did he think that she hadn’t noticed all this when it was happening?)

“So, Miss Pond, if we want to dig deeper into these mysterious circumstances, and find the cause for them, we may actually need to go back to some of those locations at some point. We still need to find out what those manifestations, temporal echoes or shadows – or whatever – actually were.”

“Okay, so why don’t we go back now? We know where we are going to be! All we have to do is pop into one of the other shops that we didn’t visit first time round. Then we wait for us to leave, and have another shufty. Right?”

The Doctor blanked out again, evidently considering the suggestion, so Amy finished off her water while she watched him. “Right.’ The Doctor suddenly announced, clapping a fist into his palm. (At least, Amy presumed that this had been his intention.) After looking at his empty water bottle – as if he had no idea where it had come from – he mouthed an accusing ‘Ow!’ at it, then absently slipped it into a jacket pocket. Amy was about to ask if he had room in there for her rubbish as well, when he raised an imperative finger. ‘Okay! I’m afraid that this might get a little complicated, Pond, but bear with me.

‘If we follow your plan, there is a strong possibility that we may get our timing wrong, and accidentally encounter our earlier selves… Since we didn’t, actually, that will cause all sorts of problems, I’m sure. Also, even if we do manage to keep out of our way, and sneak back into – for example – the Sontaran’s showroom: to them it will look like we have only just left… Then come right back! Slog already thinks we’re a couple of slices short of a sandwich!”

“Which one?”

“All of them, probably! What’s more, we know that we didn’t find anything truly conclusive, or even particularly useful, first time around. If we go back again so soon… Why should anything be different?”

“What about those invisible Mister Blobby’s we thought we saw? Your shadowy echo manifestations?”

“Think about it, Pond! For all we know, they could have been us now, doing exactly what you have just suggested!”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Doctor! We just now saw us, clear as day, when we were coming into The Happy Ogron for the first time! We weren’t blurry heat-mirage blobby thingies then, were we? And anyway, if we don’t go back now, then they couldn’t have been us, could they? We already saw them, so they must be somebody else! Explain that then, Einstein!’

Amy frowned in confusion for a moment, but refused to acknowledge that even she didn’t understand what she had just said.

The Doctor replied, looking suitably perplexed. “I can’t, this has never happened to me before. Not that I can recall, anyway...”

“There’s something else you’re forgetting, Doctor.’ Amy hurriedly interrupted, keen to share a sudden insight. ‘Those manifestations could walk through walls! How would we be able to do that?”

This, unsurprisingly, brought the Doctor up short. He shook his head ruefully, then began to rap the knuckles of a fisted hand against his forehead quite sharply. “Why am I suddenly missing the blindingly obvious all the time, Pond?’ He asked with a sigh, then gave her a remorseful look as he continued. ‘It was right there in front of me, and I didn’t see it!’

Amy could relate to that. She still wasn’t sure what she hadn’t seen herself, but she refused to ask the question that the Time Lord was obviously waiting for. Crossed arms and a raised eyebrow had worked before, so Amy stuck with that approach.

‘Okay,’ the Doctor acknowledged reluctantly. ‘While I was watching them in the salesroom, they didn’t really seem to be doing that much at all. But, now that I think on it: as well as paying absolutely no notice to obstacles – or customers – that were actually there… Well, they appeared to be avoiding obstacles that weren’t there – at least, not in this timeframe.’ He paused for a moment, frowning slightly, then tried again. ‘What I mean is, whenever they were, in the past or future of this particular present: where they were probably wasn’t the used car salesroom that we were in.

‘Either those manifestations were echoes left behind from something that has already happened, or shadows from the future of something that is going to happen, remember? So, either way, wherever they are/were/will be – it isn’t the same place as here. I mean, the actual layout of the environment that they exist in is different to this one. With me so far?”

“Um… Yep! “(Was there really any point in saying anything else? Amy wondered.)

“Alrighty then!

‘So, given just how high up we actually are here, it seems unlikely that they are somewhere that existed earlier than the shopping centre itself…

‘Unless there is a spatial dislocation involved, as well as a temporal one…’ The Doctor’s frown increased as he broke off, giving Pond a slightly alarmed look of realisation. ‘Like what just happened to us!”

“Is that likely?” Amy’s mouth asked, without giving her brain any time to consider the question.

“How should I know?’ The Doctor gasped in exasperation, grabbing a double handful of hair and glaring about wildly. Then, with a visible act of will, the Time Lord calmed himself down, primly patting his hair back into place. ‘No, let’s not get ahead of ourselves Doctor. Don’t want to worry Pond now, do we?”

A rather annoyed ‘Pond’ was about to remind him that she was still standing right there, when the Doctor brightened, saying cheerfully. ‘It needn’t be that complicated! Maybe the Sontaran’s bought out a different establishment at some time, and did a spot of redecorating? I like that explanation a lot more, don’t you, Pond? That may be worth looking into at a later date, but I would prefer to make that much later, to be honest.

‘But still, it does seem more likely that we have encountered evidence of something that hasn’t happened yet, in a place that has yet to be built…”

“That doesn’t sound too good for Salesman Slog and his mates!”

“Hmm… Can’t honestly say that I’m too concerned about that at the moment, Pond. Somebody else’s problem…

‘No, what I still can’t figure out is the shape of the place that these manifestations are being... Um… Manifested from. It’s just like you said earlier, you clever old Pond. They walked through the wall dividing the Sontaran salesroom from the next establishment along as if it wasn’t there.

‘So very probably, for them, it isn’t!”

He paused to look around the arcade again thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his lips. Amy was fascinated to watch the various expressions fight for possession of his face. It was almost like the Time Lord was miming a conversation that he was having inside his head, with the appropriate hand gesture accompaniment. Fortunately, they had drawn to a stop – quite unintentionally – in a quiet rest area, out of the main flow of pedestrian traffic. Spotting a handy waste disposal slot, Amy casually dropped her empty bottle into it while the Doctor dithered. That was when she realised that her hand felt as good as new – but the improvised bandage was gone. She sighed – it must have dropped off on the walk from The Happy Ogron. (Despite all her high ideals, she was a litterbug!) During this momentary distraction – no more than a few seconds, Amy was sure – the Doctor had evidently finished his internal discussion. He grabbed her by the shoulders when she turned back to him; shaking her enthusiastically, and grinning ferociously. “I think I’ve worked out what is going on here, Pond!” He announced proudly, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“That’s great, Doctor!’ Amy agreed, genuinely pleased that there might actually be something that they could do now – if he was really onto something. (She was also hoping that it might calm him down a little.) ‘So tell me, already!”

“I think that we are Dolphins!” The Doctor exclaimed triumphantly, as if that explained everything…

 

Bar Thing hadn’t had any customers for quite a while. (Most people seemed content to be served by the tables outside.) The doorway had interrupted his tinkering with the coffee making machine a couple of times, but it was only a small furry child, setting it off for fun. The Ogron had eventually decided that the best thing to do was remove the malfunctioning device altogether – chuck it out back until the fixing people came. He had just started trying to figure out where it was being powered from, when the door yelled, “Welcome to The Happy Ogron! We hope you enjoy your visit!” (Again!)

Without looking up from his work, Bar Thing patiently growled, “Please not play with door, little one! Already said – door not toy!”

He continued examining the base of the machine for any clues as to how he could pull it free, until a low, almost threatening voice declared. “I am a Sontaran! Kindly refrain from referring to me as ‘little one’!”

Bolting upright in alarm, the bartender looked towards the entrance, and then glared wildly around the empty bar itself. “Who that?” He demanded, eyes darting about fearfully.

He heard a heavy sigh, then the voice, sounding rather reluctant this time, said. “Down here…”

Bar Thing looked down, but could only see his own reflection in the polished surface of the counter. Slowly, almost nervously, the Ogron leant his arms on the bar, and pulled himself forward so he could peer over its top.

“Ghaargh!” He yelled involuntarily, when he found himself face to face with the owner of the voice. It leaped back in alarm at his outburst, and Bar Thing simultaneously drew back in surprise. The ‘Sontaran’ looked oddly like a squashed Ogron, being almost as wide as it was short… but it was immaculately dressed…

“I sorry, Sir!’ The bartender apologised profusely, suddenly feeling deeply embarrassed. (But surreptitiously patting his chest – to check that his heart was still beating – all the same.) ‘I Bar Thing! How I help?”

The Sontaran glared at him suspiciously for a few moments, possibly debating the wisdom of entering this particular bar in the first place. Then it relaxed slightly and began reaching into its perfectly tailored black jacket. “My name is Slog. Salesman Slog.’ It announced, as if expecting Bar Thing to be impressed by this. Then it stepped closer as it fumbled inside that lovely tux. (Bar Thing made a mental note to get the name of its tailor, should the opportunity arise.) ‘A most peculiar artifact has come into my possession, and I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it.”

As it said this, the customer removed its hand from concealment, swiveling sideways so that it could reach up and drop something on the counter.

Bar Thing looked at it curiously for a moment, then picked it up to study it more closely. It was a Happy Ogron napkin, solidified into the shape of four small fingers! Sudden recollection taking him by surprise, the Ogron barked. “Ha! I know this! Is napkin I use to fix pretty lady! She gave me munchies!’ Even as he was speaking, Bar Thing began to frown slightly. When the frown had complete control of his forehead, he asked suspiciously, ‘How you get?”

“Never mind that.’ Salesman Slog huffed dismissively, then paused as he reconsidered his approach. (This rather large creature might even be a match for a Sontaran, in the unfortunate event of a disagreement!) ‘Er,’ he began again, ‘maybe I’ll get to that later. Allow me to explain my interest. I had already surmised that this object had something to do with this establishment…’ (He paused again, wondering if mentioning that the logo printed on it was ‘a bit of a giveaway’ – would be a wise move...)

He decided to leave it, and moved on. ‘That is why I am here…”

“Most customers come for drinks or eats!” The looming presence behind the bar protested, causing Slog to lose track of what he was about to say.

“Sontaran’s don’t eat!’ He snapped automatically, waving a hand disdainfully in Bar Thing’s general direction. (Of course, he mused to himself, it would be more accurate to say that Sontaran’s can’t eat, being somewhat deficient in the digestive tract department – but it wasn’t in Slog’s nature to admit to any kind of inability.) Then another thought struck him, and he gazed up thoughtfully at the Ogron. Although he didn’t need to eat, and he had imbibed enough fluid to keep him going comfortably, Slog did have a guilty little secret. Something that he had discovered quite by accident, and tried very hard to forget about ever since…

For whatever reason, whilst designing the most efficient use of form for a Sontaran Warrior, the Scientific Elite must have decided that there was some military value in retaining the taste buds.

Slog couldn’t imagine what that might be, and didn’t particularly care, but he did find the sensation of taste… Well, it was nearly as good as a full power energy burn! He slowly turned to make sure that nobody was observing, mentally kicking himself for the needless caution even as he did so. (No Sontaran would ever visit an eating establishment! Well… Oh, Stang it! You’re being foolish, Slog. Nobody will ever know!) Plastering on a ritual grimace, Salesman Slog leaned back painfully so that he could look directly into the Ogron’s face. He imagined that this must look rather foolish, but considered the effort worthwhile. The creature might be able to provide the information that Slog was looking for…

“Actually, Bar Thing… Now that you mention it…’ he said, as he raised himself up onto a chromium bar stool by the sheer strength of his bulging arms. ‘Perhaps a drink might be pleasant. And maybe you could join me – we could have a friendly little chat!”

“I happy to help!’ bellowed the bartender, grinning hugely, but then clarified morosely. “Bar Thing only allowed soft drinks on duty, though. What you want?”

Slog felt a rush of nervous anticipation as he beckoned the Ogron closer. Hardly daring to believe what he was about to suggest, the Sontaran licked his lips, and asked nervously. “I don’t suppose you have any pickled Glurblesnogs, by any chance?”


End file.
